


I've Been Waiting

by AtticusAtlas



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Horror, Biting, Blood Drinking, Complicated Feelings and Situations, Developing Relationship, Falling In Love, GOT7 is in here too, Human Jooheon, Inspired by Vampire: The Requiem and Vampire: The Masquerade - Bloodlines, M/M, Mild Gore, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Please read the notes for helpful definitions, Smut, vampire minhyuk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-01-30 20:33:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 96,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21434293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AtticusAtlas/pseuds/AtticusAtlas
Summary: Minhyuk is constantly struggling with who he is and what he's become--in his eyes, a monster. He tries to stay away from humans as much as he can, but struggles with the inherent need to try and belong among them.Jooheon is a college drop out going through a long string of bad luck and is trying his hardest to make enough money to pay his bills so he isn't left without a place to live.When Minhyuk walks into the bar Jooheon works at, he never expected to become completely attached to the orange-haired human and Jooheon never intended to pine after someone who seems so incredibly out of his reach.
Relationships: Lee Jooheon/Lee Minhyuk
Comments: 111
Kudos: 237





	1. First Encounter

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! So, this is a Vampire AU that no one asked for, based predominantly off of the tabletop RPG game called Vampire: The Requiem. It's my own spin on things from the game so if you're familiar with it, it's not going to be 100% accurate so don't be too harsh please--I like artistic liberties! 
> 
> I really hope people enjoy this as it's been my project for NaNoWriMo and I've been having a lot of fun writing it so I hope there are some people who enjoy this (especially with everything that's been going on lately, it's been a bit of an escape for me to write it and maybe it can be an escape for someone else to read it).
> 
> Please read the notes as I include some definitions/terms that are a little hard to explain and I felt like posting definitions may be a little easier (thoughts?).
> 
> Helpful Definitions:
> 
> Kindred: another word for vampire
> 
> Kine: a word generally used by Kindred to refer to humans
> 
> Clan/Bloodline: every vampire is part of a clan/bloodline, which is basically a group of Kindred who share common characteristics and/or abilities 
> 
> Embraced: when someone is 'turned' into a vampire

Minhyuk, for the most part, likes LA. He’s lived there for over two decades now and it’s funny to him how the city never really changes.

Sure, there’s new technology always being implemented, new buildings replacing old ones—aesthetically Los Angeles changes nearly constantly in one way or another but there’s always one thing that _truly_ never changes. The people.

That’s the funny thing about humans, right? Or at least Minhyuk thinks so. They may have been walking this planet for a few hundred-thousand years with advancement, but the emotions stay the same. They still want to learn, to love, to hate, to fear. No matter what decade or what continent they live on, the essence of their being stays the same. Humans may have the most complex mind amongst the Earth’s living creatures, but throughout his time watching them Minhyuk has realized they are almost embarrassingly simple—

And he wishes nothing more than to still be human. To be alive. To be _anything_ besides what he exists as now and not be destined to survive off the thing he wants most.

Minhyuk is a Toreador. A bloodline of vampire known for ethereal beauty, irresistible charm (with a large splash of manipulation on top) and an obsession with all things beautiful and artistic. Toreador, at least by _his_ society’s standard, come off as the most “human” of vampires, passing easily amongst the crowd in their perpetual nightlife.

His Kindred peers think his clan have it easy—an ideal “unlife”. Some bloodlines hide forever in the shadows (or more often in the sewers) on account that they are so hideously disfigured and grotesque it would be impossible to assimilate into the open world. Others have such a presence that whoever they encounter (humans and some nonhumans alike) will instantly back away in fear. Whereas the Toreador can slink in either unnoticed among the flock or be the center of attention to draw their willing human prey in.

But assimilating and seeming, to the untrained eye, as “basically” human is as much a curse as it is a dark blessing. Being able to blend can make some Toreador much more in touch with what’s left of their humanity, makes them so easily ashamed of what they have to do to survive and to desperately long to actually _be_ part of the society they are forced to abuse and to know that they’ll never belong—because vampires are monsters.

_Minhyuk_ is a monster.

He tries incredibly hard not to be. He never wanted to feed off humans on account they can’t _really_ consent to it (hypnotizing and manipulating someone into a false sense of security, albeit relatively safe if done correctly, is not consent to him), so he doesn’t. Some Kindred live off animal blood—Minhyuk can’t as it makes him vomit as soon as he can swallow it. Instead, he lives off donated blood from blood banks, though that doesn’t make him happy either. That blood should be used to save lives, not to satiate the immortals, but at least it was donated willingly, and he pays a lot of money for it.

He also tries his best to be as safe around his human counterparts as he can. Unless he is absolutely starving (which he makes sure he isn’t), he doesn’t have the urge to feed. He also keeps a safe distance from them when at all possible and anyone that takes too much of an interest in him, he erases their memory when their eyes meet so they don’t remember seeing him.

In fact, that’s the only reason he’s been able to stay in the same city for as long as he has. No one realizes you never age when they can’t remember your face or realize they even saw you. It works well. He’s gotten so used to doing it that it’s become nearly second nature to him that whenever he makes direct eye contact with anyone, he erases the last few minutes of their memory so they never realized he was there in the first place. Additionally, as a second precaution he throws up an aura around himself so people within the few feet radius around his person avoid it.

Like he said before, it works well. _Really_ well. Minhyuk hasn’t slipped up in this technique for as long as he can remember.

Well, until _he_ walked up to his table.

☼

Minhyuk’s day is turning out to be awful.

There wasn’t a lot of things that he would look forward to or get excited about, but his upcoming art show to display (and hopefully sell) his latest series of paintings was one thing he _had_ been looking forward to. Sure, no one at the gallery would know _he_ was the artist—to the person hosting the event, the artist was a recluse that never shows his face in public. But he could at least lurk amongst the onlookers who would attend the event to enjoy their reactions.

It was scheduled for the 25th of January and he had been planning it for _months_. Well, until his plans came crashing down onto his head like a falling brick.

“Are you serious?” asks Minhyuk, tone crossing between incredulous with a hint of desperation. “This thing can’t be pushed to the 26th? Or the 24th, even? Why does it _have_ to be the 25th?”

Jinyoung looks up from where he’s reading a document on his ridiculously expensive oak desk. His stern yet pretty face is looking at Minhyuk with no sympathy. His black hair is perfectly styled to be parted in the middle and he’s dressed in a tailored black Armani suit. If Minhyuk didn’t know how much of a manipulative bastard Jinyoung was, he would have called him gorgeous. However, the Prince—the head of the Camarilla, the Kindred government that rules most aspects of Minhyuk’s life—is a horrible, unfeeling asshole.

“Because that’s when the senator is arriving at his hotel,” says Jinyoung, raising an angled eyebrow and speaking so slow it’s as if he speaking to a child. “Have you been in this country so long that you’ve forgotten how to understand Korean?”

Minhyuk fights the scowl that wants to settle on his face. “No, I haven’t. You said that he will be staying there for a week, though—it’s not as if we would be pressed for time for me to get to him. It _could_ potentially be another day, right?”

The black-haired man releases an annoyed sigh as he sets the document down and folds his hands neatly on top of it. “Potentially? No. Having your encounter with him the night he arrives is ideal. He’ll be tired and not realize if he loses any time while you get information from him.” He sighs again, shaking his head and Minhyuk notices his hair doesn’t shift with the movement. “I’m actually making your job easier, why can’t you understand that?”

Minhyuk’s mouth slips into a frown before he can catch himself. “I’m not saying I don’t understand, I just—.” He stops, brow furrowing.

Jinyoung looks bored, propping his elbow onto his desk to rest his small chin on his palm. “You just?” he repeats, tone slow and condescending.

“I just—I just had plans.”

The statement was not meant to be funny, but Jinyoung laughs. He flops back into his leather chair and laughs some more as he looks at Minhyuk. “You had _plans_?” he says. “What kind of plans could you possibly have?”

Minhyuk manages to swallow his sneer. There was no way in hell he was going to try and explain about his art show. He knew Jinyoung thought art was pointless and a waste of time—there was no way telling him the truth would change his mind and Minhyuk’s hands were tied anyway. He had a contract to work for the Camarilla for fifty years—breaking the contract meant his death and he was afraid to die. It was hopeless.

He lets out a quiet huff, turning around and walking out of the room. “Never mind, I’ll be there on the 25th,” he mutters, voice soft. A human wouldn’t have heard him, but he knew Jinyoung wouldn’t miss a word. 

As he closes the door behind him, the last thing he hears is a snide voice scoffing, saying: “Of course you will.”

☼

Minhyuk wasn’t one to mope, let alone in public. But, there he sat, off in a semi-secluded bar he stumbled upon on the main street of LA, moping with his entire being. It would probably have been better for him to sulk in the safety of his own apartment/art studio, but sometimes he couldn’t fight the need to be around people. He wouldn’t interact, but just observe and enjoy their presence—it was comforting in a way.

While staying separate, he makes sure to blend in some respects. He was dressed in a pair of tight, designer jeans and a decorative Versace button up (although he forgot a jacket—he never gets cold anyway). He even could enjoy small amounts of liquids that weren’t blood without it coming right up again, so he nursed slowly on a gin and tonic. It tasted like nothing in particular and he couldn’t get drunk from it, but it at least made him feel like one of the crowd.

He had been doodling onto an extra napkin he had found, slumped onto the table while he drew lazily. It was an overly simplified version of the watercolor painting he had been working on, which was of a humpback whale breaching the ocean. He had been intending on finishing it to have it be the main piece in his exhibit.

Ah. The art show.

He groans quietly to himself, dropping the pen to the table and burrowing his face into his folded arms. If the art gallery isn’t willing to reschedule it for him, he will be absolutely devastated.

He had been working so hard, compiling pieces that he thought would sell well. His work was decently well known at this point, with some of his paintings being displayed in a few large hotels, businesses and some private collections, but the more exposure he got, the better it was for him (and with being a _literal_ creature of the night, exposure wasn’t easy for him to come by).

Minhyuk must have sat slumped over in his booth for some time and completely consumed in his thoughts, because he was completely caught off guard when a glass was set down with a gentle clink onto his table.

He sits up with a start, much quicker than what would appear to be humanly possible to stare wide eyed at the young man (one of the bartenders, he realizes) who had approached Minhyuk’s table without even realizing it.

“Oh, shit, sorry--,” the man stammers, looking awkwardly down at Minhyuk. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Minhyuk, unsure of what to do (he’s so rarely taken by surprise—it just shows him how befuddled his mind is at that moment), simply replies with, “Oh, no, you’re okay,” as he tries to stop blinking in what probably is an owlish manner. Then he pauses.

The man is…cute. _Incredibly_ cute. When Minhyuk responds to him, the awkward expression transforms into a beautiful smile, dimples settling deep into his cheeks giving him a boyish look. His hair is bright orange, nearly tangerine in color and styled away from his face to show off small, angular eyes that nearly disappear with his smile. He’s dressed in a form fitting black shirt, collar dipped low to show off pretty collarbones which is paired with snug black jeans covering thick thighs.

He’s—hm.

He realizes he’s gawking at this person, something he hasn’t done in long while, and he glances down at the table feeling what he can only describe as flustered. He blinks again at the addition to his table, which happens to be a fresh gin and tonic.

Minhyuk quirks an eyebrow, glancing back up to the bartender. “I didn’t order this.”

“Oh, yeah, uh,” the man says, scratching at his ear. Minhyuk can smell his blood rushing to the surface of his skin. “It’s on me—you looked really down, so I thought you could use a pick me up.” The orange-haired man’s eyes roam over Minhyuk’s face for a moment before he starts fiddling with the towel that’s draped over his shoulder. His face is a pretty pink at this point. _Cute_.

Minhyuk’s face breaks into a smile. He leans onto the table, elbow coming up so he can rest his chin on the back of his hand while the other grabs the fogging glass. “You know,” he starts, looking up at the other, “I can’t tell you the last time someone bought me a drink. Thank you.”

The bartender raises his eyebrows. “I find that really hard to believe.”

“Why do you say that?” Minhyuk snorts, taking a quick sip from the straw before setting the glass back down.

“Well, I mean,” he begins, gesturing vaguely at Minhyuk’s face, as if that answers the question, shoving his hand into his back pocket shortly after.

Minhyuk openly laughs, leaning back into the booth. “I think that was a compliment, so I’ll say thank you.”

“Mm,” the other hums, exuding embarrassment that Minhyuk can’t help but drink up. It’s been ages since he has had a conversation like this and he would be lying to say he wasn’t enjoying himself. The man glances down at the table, nodding his head at the napkin that is on the table. “Hey, did you draw that?” 

“Oh,” Minhyuk blinks, glancing down at his doodle he had forgotten he’d drawn. “Yeah, yeah I did.”

“Man, it’s really good!” the man exclaims, grabbing the napkin to slide it towards himself and picking it up in his hands. He holds it relatively close to his face to get a better look—he must not have very good eyesight. “This whale is really realistic! I wish I could draw.”

“Anyone can draw, it just takes practice,” says Minhyuk quietly, smiling to himself. He loved when his artwork was complimented, even if it was only on a silly little doodle on a crappy napkin. This bartender is pulling on his heart strings and he probably doesn’t have a clue.

The man scoffs, glancing over the napkin that is still held up in front of his face. “You _know_ that’s not true. Maybe people can practice, sure, but people who have natural talent—you can just tell the difference.” He finally settles the napkin back down onto the table of the booth and slides it over towards Minhyuk. “I really like it.”

Minhyuk’s smile feels bright as he makes eye contact with the bartender. His eyes are such a gorgeous shade of chocolate brown. “You can have it, if you want.”

The brown eyes widen in shock and the orange-haired man’s pouty mouth pops open into an adorable ‘o’. “Seriously?”

Minhyuk can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of his chest, nor the grin that settles on his face. “Sure. I wish everyone got this excited over my art.” He slides the napkin back across the table. “It’s yours.”

“Thank you!” the man grins back and it looks gorgeous on him. It makes Minhyuk wish he had a camera or that he could always see smiles like that. He opens his mouth to say something else but is cut off by a voice towards the front of the bar.

“Jooheon!” it yells, and Minhyuk sees that it’s the other bartender on duty. “Your break’s over, man. Come on!”

“Coming!” the bartender named Jooheon calls back over his shoulder, before looking back to Minhyuk. “Gotta go. Enjoy your drink, okay? And--,” he says, wiggling the napkin in his hand, still smiling and his face nearly taken over by his dimples, “thanks again.”

Minhyuk smiles back with a little nod, grabbing his drink so he can stuff the straw into his mouth and crush it between his teeth. He’s unable to help himself as he watches ‘Jooheon’ walk away and _maybe_ appreciating how the cute man’s ass fills out the tight fabric of his jeans.

_I should wipe his memory before I leave, shouldn’t I?_ he thinks to himself, unable to ignore how the thought makes him glum. He slips the straw from his mouth, glancing down at the drink before looking back up and noticing how the orange head is now behind the bar and barking out a laugh to his coworker. He looks again to the drink before downing it quickly.

He stands up shortly after, leaving a twenty-dollar-bill on the top of the table. He slips, silently out of the bar, no one noticing his exit and pointedly avoids looking at the bar.

Maybe letting his guard down once in a while wasn’t a bad thing…

Right? 

☼

_Earlier that same day:_

“I’m sorry, Jooheon, but we’re going to have to let you go.”

Jooheon’s fingers are holding his phone to his ear in a white knuckled grip as his heart drops in his chest. He has no idea what to say. “I’m sorry--,” he tries, but is cut off as soon as he starts.

“I know what you’re going to say,” the man, and most likely now his former boss, sighs, “‘I’m sorry, it won’t happen again’ or ‘just give me one more chance’. I can’t give your any more chances. This would have been the third time you’ve been late so far this month; do you realize that?”

Jooheon frowns. _Of course_ he does. He’s not stupid, but the man’s tone makes it sound like he is. “I--.”

“You’re a good worker when you’re here, but I can’t allow this behavior anymore. It looks bad on me and I don’t need anyone else here thinking that they can take advantage of my kindness and come in whenever they please.”

“But I never meant to--.”

A long sigh from the other line stops him in his tracks. “Jooheon, you’re a good kid—I know you are, but I’m trying to run a business. At this point you’re just a liability because I can’t count on you to turn up for your shift on time. When you don’t show up, the whole staff suffers. I’m sorry, but that’s just the truth. Your last check will be in the mail by the end of next week.”

The call disconnects and he is met with silence.

Jooheon stays seated, the phone still held to his ear for several seconds before anger and frustration wracks his body like a tidal wave. It takes all his willpower not to chuck his stupid phone, screen already ruined by a spiderweb shaped crack, against the wall.

_You can’t afford a new one, don’t be stupid_.

His hand grips the phone hard but settles to slam against the mattress he is sitting on before letting himself fall back onto it.

“_Fuck_,” he curses, hitting his fist against the bed before shoving the heels of his palms into his eyes in absolute misery.

It’s not as if he had _meant _to have so many late starts, but his work schedule with having two jobs made it difficult to be on time. His other, now only, job was working at a bar in downtown Los Angeles and his shifts didn’t end until 4:00 in the morning. The job he lost was at a small restaurant where he bussed tables and completed deliveries. It wasn’t difficult, by any means, but his shifts there normally started at 7:00am. When he worked both places consecutively—which happened often—he ended up being awake for close to 24 hours straight when he got back home. In turn, on the odd day he tried to squeeze in an hour-long nap between shifts he would always over sleep, which is why he found himself in the position he was now.

Now he was down the restaurant job, losing money he desperately needs. _Fuck_.

This is not where he would have saw himself at the age of 24. College dropout, in debt, single (_so_ single), working only part-time jobs, scraping by living paycheck to paycheck. He was barely able to afford his shitty one-bedroom apartment with his two jobs and now he was going to have to try and make it with one.

If _only_ he had been able to finish school—maybe things would have been better. Right after graduation, he had made it into a decent college in LA for music production. The school was expensive, but well known with good connections to find work once the degree was finished. He only made one year. The pressure got to be too much, and he dropped out after having a nervous breakdown. There was always a part of him that tried to convince himself that he would go back eventually and finish, but that was nearly five years ago already. There was no way he would ever go back now.

With a sigh, he sits himself back up on the edge of the bed and rubs his face. He grabs his phone—which thankfully survived his abuse due to the fact that the mattress, although lumpy, was at least soft—and enters in his passcode to unlock it. He swipes to pull up the app for his bank to try and figure out how much money he had until his next payday. When the app loads, he blanches at his balance:

$10.23.

The breath he releases is shaky, willing himself to not get overwhelmed. _It’ll be okay_, he thinks. He will just try and find another part-time job when he can and really lay on the charm that night when he was bartending—those tips can and have been a lifesaver before. Hopefully it would be again.

His stomach grumbles loudly enough that he can hear it clearly in the quiet room, but he ignores it. He didn’t have any food in his old fridge anyway. He stands up, peeling off the clothes he had put on for his shift at the restaurant, not needing them anymore. He crawls into his bed, under his warn out duvet, and turns off the bedside lamp to envelop the room in darkness.

A new job could wait for the moment. For now, he’ll sleep.

☼

Jooheon finally feels better after a small rush at the bar. Thursdays aren’t the busiest day of the week, but the bar had enough ‘Thirsty Thursday’ specials that brought enough regulars in that made for decent enough tips. At around midnight, he pauses to count the cash he has acquired and is chuffed to see that he’s made just short of fifty-bucks so far and he releases a sigh of relief.

“You’re dressed like you’re trying to get laid tonight.”

Jooheon glances up at Youngjae, the other bartender on duty tonight (he’s a young kid still in college who has a round face, blue hair, a large expressive mouth and one of the loudest laughs he’s ever heard). “Not trying to get laid,” he replies with a shrug, shoving the cash back into the pocket of his tight jeans.

“Joo, you’re wearing eyeshadow and I can basically see your nipples with how low cut your shirt is.”

He sniffs indignantly in response. “It makes my eyes look bigger and my shirt’s barely below my collar bones, quit judging me.” Okay. He may have hammed it up a little. His eyes were small, but he knew how good they could look with some dark brown shadow smudged around the edges and the low hanging collar of his shirt gave people something to look at. Charm only got you so far when the clientele that often frequented the bar preferred a nice picture to stare at instead of an interesting conversation. “I lost my other job today; I really need the money.”

The condescending smirk that Youngjae had been wearing falls and switches to something genuinely apologetic. “Crap, sorry man. That’s gotta be rough.”

“Yeah, you’re not wrong,” sighs Jooheon. He grabs the two glasses that were left on the bar top and turns around to dump the melting ice into the sink. “If you have any shifts you need covered, let me know, okay?”

“You got it,” says Youngae cheerfully. “Actually, want to take my Tuesdays? I won’t be able to work them anymore—I have a night class starting for spring semester. Interested?”

Jooheon perks up. Tuesdays were garbage days for tips as it was the slowest day of the week, but at least he’d be paid hourly for when he’s there. “Yes! I need all the help I can get until I find another job.”

Youngjae winks at him as he grins. “Then they’re yours. I’ll let Marie know you’ll cover me when I tell her, then she won’t be pissed at me. She _hates_ working with my school schedule, you know?”

_Can’t relate_, Jooheon thinks. “Mm,” he hums, taking the towel that is draped over his shoulder to wipe down his end of the bar. “Spring semester starts next week, right?”

“_Yes_,” Youngjae groans, flopping dramatically against the counter. “I’m trying to finish my degree a semester early so I’m taking an extra four credits. It’s murder.”

Jooheon smiles at the younger man. “You’re almost done though, right? You got this, just hang in there a little longer.”

“Thanks, man.” Youngjae smiles back before he turns away as a tipsy looking couple walk up to the bar to give him their drink orders.

The next couple of hours go on smoothly. The amount of people coming into the bar has slowed down, which is pretty typical for 2am. He manages to earn another $15 in tips, and he thinks he might treat himself to a McDonald’s Egg McMuffin on his way home.

He’s currently standing in front of the bar top, wiping down one of the stools. The place is pretty empty at this point as he glances around to see which tables need to be cleaned when he notices a blond head slumped over in one of the booths towards the back.

At first he assumed it was another drunk patron he’d have to gently coax out of the bar, but upon further study he can see the man’s form release a deep sigh that shakes his shoulders. Seeing it makes Jooheon frown in sympathy. Maybe because he has had such a rough day himself, he’s suddenly washed over with the feeling of wanting to do a good deed.

He walks a few steps over to where Youngjae is washing out a few glasses and tosses his towel back over his shoulder. “Youngjae, what did that guy order?”

“Huh?” the younger man raises his eyebrows as Jooheon jabs his finger towards the back of the room and the other’s eyes follow him. “Oh, I have no idea. I don’t think I served him—you must have.”

“No, I’m sure I didn’t,” says Jooheon, brow furrowing.

“Well, you must have because I didn’t.”

Jooheon rolls his eyes. Youngjae barely remembers how to get to the bar from the bus stop down the street, so he really shouldn’t be surprised by him not recalling a drink order. He squints at the empty drink on the table as best as he can and sees that it’s a highball glass with what looks like a lime in it. “Make me a gin and tonic.”

“For you?”

“_Obviously_, just make it, will you?”

Youngjae sticks out his tongue at him as he starts mixing the drink and then glares when Jooheon tells him to use the good gin. Shortly after, he has the glass in his hand as he starts making his way to the booth in the back.

As he approaches the table, he expects the guy to notice him, but his head stays firmly tucked into his arms. Jooheon opens his mouth to greet him, but then suddenly feels awkward saying anything. He stands there for a few more seconds, before he decides to simply set the drink down on the table—which ends up being a poor choice as it makes the patron jump a few inches out of his seat in surprise.

“Oh, shit, sorry--,” Jooheon curses, holding his hands up in apology. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

The blond blinks unevenly at him, looking at Jooheon as if he teleported out of thin air. “Oh, no, you’re okay,” he says. His voice is very husky and the sound surprises Jooheon.

They stare at each other in an awkward silence—which he tries to mask with a smile—for a moment when Jooheon realizes the man in front of him has one of the most beautiful faces he’s ever seen in person. His bleached-out hair is nearly white and is tousled in the way that he sees in magazines. His cheek bones sit high on his face and he has a sharp jawline that accompanies perfectly formed lips. Even his eyes are large and expressive. It makes Jooheon think that he was carved from marble—faces like this shouldn’t be real. 

He doesn’t realize how long they have been looking at each other in silence, but eventually the other breaks it as he glances at the drink Jooheon added to his table. “I didn’t order this.”

Jooheon blinks. “Oh, yeah, uh,” Jooheon says eloquently, wanting to kick himself for being suddenly so socially awkward. He’s pretty sure he’s blushing right now and he can’t help but feel thankful that the bar’s lights are always dim. “It’s on me,” he explains eventually, tugging at his ear, “You looked really down, so I thought you could use a pick me up.” He can’t help how his eyes flicker around the other man’s face, as if he trying to burn his image into his brain for future use. _Ugh I’m too gay for this_, he whines in his head, trying to look past the gorgeous face as he fiddles with the towel he left on his shoulder from cleaning.

The blond blinks unevenly at him again. Jooheon half expects him to mock him—all the pretty ones do—but his stomach flips when he’s given a wide, genuine smile as the man lifts up the highball glass to look at him. “You know, I can’t tell you the last time someone bought me a drink. Thank you.”

“I find that really hard to believe,” Jooheon blurts out before he can stop himself.

“Why do you say that?” the other asks, tilting his head as takes a quick sip from the drink.

“Well, I mean,” he stammers back, raising his hand to gesture around the general vicinity of the pretty man’s face. He wants to say ‘Because you look like a fucking model’ but his voice catches in his throat and he screams at himself inside his head for being _this fucking embarrassing_.

Luckily the man just laughs in a pleasant way as he settles back against the seat of the booth. “I think that was a compliment, so I’ll say thank you.”

“Mm,” is all Jooheon manages. He’s pretty sure his face is so red it’s radiating like a glowstick at a rave. Desperately wanting to change the subject, he notices something drawn on the napkin that’s sitting next to the man’s other glass. He looks at it in interest and asks quickly: “Hey, did you draw that?” When the man looks at him in mild surprise and answers in the affirmative, Jooheon slides the napkin across the table to get a better look.

“Man, it’s really good!” he exclaims in surprise. It’s a simple little sketch, but it’s pretty in its simplicity—a whale breaching from the water drawn across the night sky in the background. “This whale is really realistic! I wish I could draw,” he can’t help but add. He wasn’t talented at much of anything anymore except for making a decent drink once in a blue moon.

“Anyone can draw, it just takes practice,” the blond says to him quietly, a small smile on his face.

Jooheon lets out a scoff—this guy was pretty, talented _and_ modest. “You _know_ that’s not true. Maybe people can practice, sure, but people who have natural talent—you can just tell the difference.” He rambles on longer than he probably should have, so he places the sketch back onto the table and slides it back over, adding a final: “I really like it,” as he does. He’s blessed with another smile after his spiel and it takes his breath away.

“You can have it, if you want,” the husky voice says.

“Seriously?” Jooheon asks as his eyes go wide.

“Sure. I wish everyone got this excited over my art,” the man grins after another musical sounding laugh. He slides the napkin back across the table to sit in front of Jooheon. “It’s yours.”

“Thank you!” Jooheon can’t help but grin, genuinely excited. He opens his mouth to say that he’ll put it on his fridge (which is probably a weird thing to say) when he’s cut off by Youngjae yelling at him to come back over to the bar in his ridiculously loud voice.

“Coming!” Jooheon shouts over his shoulder before looking back at the man in the booth and smiling down at him. “Gotta go. Enjoy your drink, okay? And--,” he says, holding the sketch up again, “thanks again.” The man smiles back, giving a little wave as Jooheon somewhat reluctantly walks back up to the front of the bar.

He carefully folds the napkin to put it safely into his back pocket as he reaches Youngjae who is looking at him with raised eyebrows and crossed arms. “No need to shout, I was coming back in a second,” he sighs as he comes behind the bar.

“_Sure_, you were,” Youngjae mocks, eyebrows still raised. “More like you were trying to get extra tips when you actually could be cleaning with me.”

“Oh, whatever.” Jooheon shakes his head, releasing a laugh. More like he was trying to cheer up a living statue of a Greek God and he got incredibly distracted—but Youngjae didn’t need to know that. “I’ll finish washing the glasses if you’ll wipe down the front booths.” Youngjae agrees eventually and after he walks away to do what he’s asks. Jooheon takes a second to grab the folded napkin from his pocket again to look at it once more.

His eyes sweep across the drawing for a few seconds before he realizes there’s no signature on it. Not that he was expecting it—it’s literally _on a napkin_—but it dawns on him that he never caught the artist’s name.

He glances back up to the booth in the back where the man had been siting, only to stare at it in shock when he realizes that it’s empty besides for the two finished drinks. He looks around the bar in confusion, only to find that the blond man to be nowhere in sight. How he managed to leave the bar without Jooheon noticing, he has no idea, but he can’t help but feel incredibly disappointed that he had.

He pouts a little as he looks back down at the whale sketch in his hand as his shoulders slump. He eventually pockets the drawing for the final time that evening before he starts washing up the glasses, hoping blindly that the blond man would come to the bar again.


	2. January to April

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jooheon and Minhyuk get to know each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helpful Definitions:
> 
> Ghoul: a human who consumes vampire blood (also known as Vitae) and becomes a creature of the night themselves. They are tied to the Kindred they have fed off of and linger in a state of not quite being undead, but not quite mortal either
> 
> The Prince: The head or "President" of the Camarilla
> 
> Camarilla: The government of vampire society
> 
> This chapter is REALLY long. Sorry, I needed to accomplish a lot in it!

** _January 22nd_ **

Things still were not looking up for Jooheon once the next two weeks passed by. He had managed to snag an interview at another restaurant, but he was so tired during the interview from working the night prior that he was pretty sure the manager who was interviewing him thought he was either drunk, high or both. He never heard anything back, but he wasn’t surprised. He ended up having to sell his computer to have enough money for rent for February, which left him feeling devastated. His computer had his only copy of Cubase installed on it and in turn he lost it when it was sold. Now he was unable to make any music when he had free time—one of his few joys left in life.

He was feeling glad that Tuesday at the bar was dead, as usual, so he didn’t have to attempt laying down heaps of fake charm to try and swindle some extra tips out of customers. He just wasn’t feeling it tonight.

It’s just past 11:30pm and he had finished serving a small group of college kids a round of ridiculously complicated cocktails that they had seen on Pinterest when he was finally left alone again behind the bar.

“Kids today don’t know how to tip,” he grumbles to himself, counting the whopping _two dollars_ (in quarters) he got after mixing close to $30 in drinks. He almost wanted to throw the change back at them in spite, but he was desperate at this point and, well, two dollars was still two dollars.

He leans against the counter that sits in front of the wall that houses the more expensive liquor and unlocks his phone to check his balance on his bank account. After he enters his password, he is at least pleased to see that after selling his beloved computer and paying rent, he wasn’t _completely_ broke. He was going to have to try and live off a little under $20 until his next paycheck unless he manages to make some decent tips over his next two shifts.

Jooheon releases a sigh that shakes his body and slumps his shoulders at the prospect of eating nothing but pasta and ramen over the next week to save money. Not that he _minds_ pasta and ramen but eating it solely out of necessity (which happens frequently) wears him down. How he hasn’t died of sodium poisoning yet is beyond him.

“What’s got you so down?”

Jooheon’s head shoots up to the figure that he hadn’t realized was sitting on a bar stool to his left. His eyes are greeted by the beautiful blond man he had spoken to two weeks prior and his breath catches in his throat—his memory didn’t do him justice. The man is smiling at him, looking like he walked out of a fashion magazine with his perfectly tussled hair and Versace button down in red and gold, the first few buttons undone to show off a platinum necklace with a rose pendant dangling below his collar bones. He looks expensive and, Jooheon can’t help but think, _so_ out of his league.

“How long have you been sitting there?” he asks, eyes a little wide and heart beating a bit faster.

“Oh,” the husky voice says, glancing down at a silver watch on his wrist before looking back to Jooheon, smile still in place, “a couple of minutes. You didn’t answer my question, though.”

Jooheon is so thrown off by the man’s appearance he can’t remember what he had asked him. “Uh, sorry, what did you ask me?”

“What’s got you so down,” the blond repeats with a laugh and Jooheon idly wishes he could save it as his ringtone.

“Oh,” Jooheon snorts. He walks over to stand in front of the man, the counter in between them as he puts both arms on it to lean. “It’s just been a rough couple of weeks. Why, do I look down?”

Minhyuk releases an overexaggerated sigh, mimicking how Jooheon had slumped his shoulders down a few moments ago, pouting his lips before letting them slip back into a smile. “That’s what you just did—kinda hard to look chipper when you do that.”

Jooheon scowls. “I did _not_ pout.”

“Oh, but _you did_,” the man grins, leaning forward, jutting out his lip in a ridiculous way at Jooheon and laughing right after. “Just like that.”

“Nope, I don’t believe you.” Jooheon crosses his arms, defiant but playful. “I’ve never pouted a day in my life.”

The other snorts, his eyes twinkling as they curve into crescents with his wide smile. _God_, he’s breathtaking—and that’s not a word Jooheon likes to use often, if ever. “My bad. Must be going blind in my old age. Whatever I saw was pretty cute, though.”

Jooheon flushes at the compliment which he’s sure is obvious as the lights behind the counter are much brighter than the rest of the establishment. He tries to will the blood away from his cheeks as he states with a snort, “Old age? Yeah right. You can’t be older than, like, twenty-six. _Tops_.”

“Something like that, yeah.” The man shrugs, perching his elbow on the counter and leaning his chin on the back of his hand. “I’d guess you’re about twenty-one. _Tops_,” he mimics Jooheon teasingly. “Either that or you have the baby face of the century.”

Jooheon grins. “Twenty-four, but thanks for the compliment.” _Is he flirting with me? He’s flirting with me, right?_ “So,” he slaps his hands down on the counter. “What can I get you? Gin and tonic?”

The blond raises his eyes. “You remember my drink order?”

“Sure do. It’s a curse, honestly.” He taps at the side of his temple. “My mind is built to remember useless information that I normally don’t need.”

“Sounds like a handy tool to me considering your job,” the man comments, canting his head to the side as he fiddles with the pendant on his neck. “I’m thinking whiskey tonight. Do you have any Johnnie Walker? Blue Label, preferably?”

“That we do,” he says, walking over to the shelf that kept the whiskey and grabbing the sleek bottle filled with amber liquid. He shouldn’t be surprised that the expensive looking blond liked the more pricey whiskey. “How do you like it?” he inquires as he walks back with the bottle in hand.

“Inside of me,” the man jokes and then bursts out laughing when Jooheon clanks the bottle heavily onto the counter by accident. “Oh my God, you’re too cute,” he giggles. _Giggles_. “I like it neat.”

Jooheon’s mind went _way_ too many places at the statement of ‘inside of me’ and he was trying not to show it. He ducks his face a bit, trying to hide the redness _again_ and his rushing thoughts as he grabs a clean whiskey tumbler from under the counter. “Well, I’m glad you at least seem to be in a better mood then the last time I saw you,” he comments, uncapping the bottle and flowing the whiskey into the glass before sliding it over.

The man’s smile falters slightly at the statement and turns sad as he brings the glass closer to himself and takes it into his large hands. “You remember, huh?” he says softly.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring it up,” Jooheon adds quickly, instantly feeling guilty by ruining the pretty man’s smile. He tries to brighten the mood with, “Hey, I still have the drawing you gave me.”

The blond’s eyebrows raise towards his hairline. “You kept it?” he asks, surprise clear in the raspy voice as he raises the glass to take a long sip. Jooheon can’t help but be impressed that the other doesn’t flinch—he always coughs after drinking whiskey. It’s like drinking lighter fluid.

“Yep,” he grins, taking the bottle and placing it back to its rightful spot on the shelf. “I put it on the fridge!”

The man bursts out laughing, clunking the glass heavily onto the counter. “Wow, I’ve never made it onto a fridge before! What an honor,” he quips, still laughing as he looks straight into Jooheon’s eyes and his heart skips a couple beats at the intensity. It feels as if he shouldn’t be allowed to look at them, but he isn’t sure why he thinks that—the other’s face is nothing but welcoming. “Thank you, it was just a crummy sketch, but I’m glad you like it.”

Jooheon smiles, averting his gaze for a second as he grabs a towel that’s hanging from one of the cupboards and absently wipes over the counter that is perfectly clean. “There was something missing from it though,” he mentions off handedly.

“Oh?” the man asks, as he looks at Jooheon. “And what’s it missing?”

He stops wiping the counter to look back at the pretty blond. He questions on whether he should say it but throws caution to the wind when he finally says: “The name of the artist.”

The man appraises him for a moment, an unreadable expression on his attractive face before he chuckles, raising the glass again to his lips and states, “Minhyuk.”

“Minhyuk,” Jooheon repeats. The name giving him a sense of warmth that he can’t explain, but the feeling in his chest is evident. He walks over, slinging the towel over his shoulder as he often does and leans in front of the man who has been running through his mind since he had met him. He smiles brightly, unable to hide the giddiness he feels. “Well, Minhyuk, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Jooheon.”

Minhyuk smiles back, finally sipping from his glass as he blinks unevenly at him. “Nice to meet you, Jooheon.”

Jooheon has never pined after a customer before, but slowly he finds that is exactly what he’s doing.

☼

** _February 19th_ **

The meeting with the senator on January 25th went off without a hitch. Minhyuk managed to get the information from him easily after he snuck into the man’s hotel room, and Jinyoung was practically elated when he came back with a report that the politician had been stealing money from his campaign fund. Jinyoung no doubt would use it to try and blackmail the man for monetary gain, but that isn’t Minhyuk’s problem. He’s still pissed that he had to cancel his art show, but he was able to at least able to get it rescheduled for the first Monday in March without losing _too_ much money on booking the gallery again.

He finds himself standing outside of The Last Round—the name of the bar Jooheon works at— again. Last month, he never had the intention to speak to the man again—maybe look at him from afar (he’s aware that’s a _smidge_ creepy), but that swiftly got thrown out the window. He went back and talked to Jooheon and he found himself feeling weak in the knees for the orange-haired man and found he couldn’t seem to stay away.

Time after time he would say to himself that he’d just go and see him ‘one last time’, but at this point in February he was on his eighth visit to the bar. When he came to visit, they mostly just chatted or blatantly flirted with each other (well, on Minhyuk’s side, at least) and he was finding himself getting…attached. The jury was still out on whether what he was doing was okay or not. He kept telling himself ‘What’s the harm?’ even though deep down he knew a few answers to that question but would still return.

With a quiet huff, he walks into the bar, giving into his urges yet again—he’ll just beat himself up about it later. The metal bells above the door jingle as he enters the warm atmosphere of the room. The bar is not new, but not completely outdated and he feels that the slightly worn out wood and leather gives it a certain charm. He wishes he could try and convince himself that this was the reason he continued to come back, but he’s not naïve enough to try.

There are only a few Kine towards the back of the large room but the entire counter in front of the bar is delightfully empty. Jooheon is standing with his back towards him, clad in his usual tight black jeans and a fitted red button up with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. He can only see him from behind, but Minhyuk, as usual, loves what he’s seeing.

He walks up to a barstool, making sure to have his footsteps, which are usually unnaturally silent, sound a bit heavy on the hard wood floor. Jooheon scares easily and as adorable as it is to see the younger man jump, Minhyuk doesn’t want to tease him _too_ much.

The heavier steps do the trick as Jooheon looks over his shoulder at the sound and his face instantly brightens as he notices Minhyuk walking towards him.

“I was hoping you were coming tonight,” Jooheon grins, making his dimples pop out on full display and it warms Minhyuk’s core.

“You were?” Minhyuk asks, smiling easily at Jooheon. Maybe that is why he couldn’t stay away. Jooheon makes every interaction they have so easy and natural—it makes him feel almost human. “Why is that?”

Minhyuk can smell Jooheon’s blood start to rush to the surface of his skin. It’s a common occurrence during their encounters, but the man moves on as if he doesn’t notice. “Well, I can easily say that you’re one of my favorite customers—you actually seem to _like_ talking to me. Most people just try to chat me up for free drinks.”

“I’m one of your favorites? Awww! Well, you definitely pulled me in with that first free drink,” he comments as he settles onto the barstool in front of where Jooheon is standing. “Now I just stay for the pleasant company and to watch the show.”

Jooheon bobs his head back. “…The show?”

“Watching your face heat up like a lava lamp—it’s pretty fun to see.” Minhyuk bites the tip of his tongue as he watches Jooheon slap both of his hands onto his cheeks, face now resembling a pleasantly ripe tomato as his small eyes widen.

“I take it back, you’re not my favorite,” Jooheon mumbles, turning away from Minhyuk to busy himself with the bottles on the counter and no doubt to hide his face until it cools down.

“Aw, don’ be like that—it’s cute!” teases Minhyuk, grinning from ear to ear as he watches Jooheon flounder around the bar to seem busy.

“Men aren’t supposed to be cute,” he hears the other whisper, softly enough that Minhyuk knows he shouldn’t be able to hear it and as such he doesn’t comment on it. “What’ll it be tonight? Gin and tonic or whiskey neat?”

“Surprise me,” he sing-songs back and enjoys watching as Jooheon moves around to make his drink. Minhyuk thoroughly loves watching the other man move, mostly to ponder how his thick thighs don’t burst out of his pants…

…which he knows is not a thought he should be having.

A few minutes later, Jooheon plops down a small tumbler in front of him and he notices it’s not a gin and tonic _or_ a double shot of whiskey. He quirks an eyebrow as he pokes at the orange slice that is garnishing the glass with the tip of his finger. “What’s this?”

Jooheon waits until Minhyuk’s eyes meet his before he grins cheekily at him. “It’s a Suffering Bastard. Enjoy.”

Minhyuk barks a laugh as he raises the glass at Jooheon before moving it to his mouth. “I_ feel_ like you’re trying to tell me something, but I’m not sure what it is.” He takes a sip from the glass and makes a show of smacking his lips in appreciation. Truthfully, he can’t taste the difference between much of anything (his taste buds don’t work as they did when he was alive), but he knows how happy it makes Jooheon when he compliments a drink. “It’s great!”

“Good, I’m glad.” Jooheon’s grin only widens as he practically beams at the compliment. This boy is seriously too endearing for words.

As Minhyuk is about to take another sip, the door to the bar opens and a college aged couple, a man and a woman, walk into the bar.

“Welcome!” Jooheon greets them and Minhyuk scowls internally. The busier the bar is, the less he is able to talk to his favorite bartender. He’ll have to do something about that.

He keeps himself sitting stoically at his seat, slowly sipping his drink while the couple gives their request to Jooheon. The orange haired man chats to the human male as he begins mixing their drinks, leaving the woman to look around.

Minhyuk wills her to glance over at him and when their eyes lock, there’s a _thump_ that sounds in his ears, time slowing down as he easily makes a connection with her thoughts. He feels and hears as the woman’s mind muddles around a myriad of pointless ideas; pondering around things such as what time it is and remembering that she needs to do her laundry, before he places a thought of his own inside.

_“Go to the back of the bar.”_

He makes her forget that she even looked in Minhyuk’s direction right before she turns to her partner who is still chatting casually with Jooheon. “I’m going to wait in the back,” she tells him quietly, before dutifully trotting off to one of the back booths in the far end of the bar. The man, none the wiser, takes his two drinks from Jooheon a few moments later and walks to join his woman in the back.

Minhyuk smiles to himself, pleased (even though he knows he shouldn’t be).

After they’re left alone once more, the two spend the next half an hour simply chatting, which is something Minhyuk loves. It’s been so long, years even, since he’s been able to speak so freely with someone—it’s makes him remember the person he fears he had forgotten about, the person he was before he was embraced into the life he is forced to live now. He even laughs which was something he felt as if he had forgotten how to do and it’s all thanks to Jooheon.

_Yep,_ he thinks as he watches Jooheon guffaw at one of his jokes, _definitely getting attached_.

“Hey, so I wanted to ask you something.”

Minhyuk raises his eyebrows at the other as he is slid a fresh drink (this one on the house, but Minhyuk plans to pay for it anyway). “Hm? Ask away.” He watches as Jooheon opens his mouth once but stops himself a moment later, furrowing his brow, as if he’s battling with how he should word something. Minhyuk chuckles at him, watching as the blood moves to Jooheon’s cheeks and ears after it had just recently settled back to where it belonged. It smells sweet. “Don’t think so hard—don’t want you to burst a blood vessel. Just ask me.”

Jooheon seems to struggle internally for another moment, before he finally blurts out, “Would you, like—I dunno, wanna go out to dinner sometime?” Minhyuk’s brain misfires. “There’s this really good family-run pizza place near my apartment—it’s in the shitty part of LA, like the _really_ shitty part, but the pizza’s good and I thought maybe we could go, uh, together.”

Minhyuk is silent, completely at a loss by the request. He _wants_ to go, God he wants to, but he’s battling between what his heart wants and what the responsible part of him knows he should do. He should say no, but every fiber of his being wants to say yes, even if he can’t eat food.

His silence seems to make Jooheon panic and he soon meets eyes with an incredibly embarrassed and seemingly guilty looking man. “Oh my God, if you don’t want to it’s totally fine! Don’t worry about it, it’s no big deal. It’s just that I really like talking to you, but I think I must have misread the signals—you can hit me if you want. I, uh…Jesus Christ.”

Minhyuk realizes that Jooheon is thinking he’s being rejected and, against all better judgement, Minhyuk begins to panic too. “No!” he exclaims, reaching out to grab Jooheon’s hand in urgency. “No, Jooheon you didn’t misread anything, I--,” he faulters, trying to find an explanation that’s not quite a lie but isn’t the truth either. Jooheon just stares down at the hand clutching his. “The job I have. I work late most nights so it’s hard for me to get off in time before most restaurants close,” his brain racks around for ideas, he’s never had to explain something like this to someone who didn’t know what he was. “And I have a lot of food allergies—it makes it basically impossible for me to eat anywhere since I’m allergic to everything. As long as you want to do something after 9 or 10 and it’s not food related, I would be completely down for it.”

The orange-haired man blinks owlishly at him, glancing at Minhyuk’s eyes and then back down to their hands which are still touching. “You’re not just saying that because you feel guilty, right?”

Minhyuk shakes his head, probably comically fast as he fights away the inner voice which is screaming that this is a terrible idea. “Do I seem like someone who would lie to you?” he asks and his gut twists at the question.

The other purses his lips for a second as he blinks again. “No, you don’t,” he says quietly before adding, “Your hand is pretty cold.”

Minhyuk retracts his hand as if he’s burnt—he completely forgot how different their body temperatures are. “Sorry, bad circulation,” he makes up, cringing internally.

“You mean it, though?” Jooheon asks, his face still red and rubbing at his own hands nervously.

“How about this,” says Minhyuk, grabbing a napkin from the stack on the counter and reaching over to pull a pen out of the pocket on Jooheon’s shirt, smiling when the younger man makes a quick inhale that he shouldn’t be able to hear. Minhyuk jots down a date along with an address. “I have an art show coming up at a local gallery on March 4th—it’s a Monday. If you don’t work, would you come? I’d love for you to be there.”

Jooheon’s eyes brighten. “Seriously? I’d really like to go.”

“Perfect,” Minhyuk grins, not letting himself admit how happy this makes him feel. “Then it’s a date.”

☼

** _March 4th_ **

Jooheon feels incredibly out of place. He’s never been invited to an art show before—especially one that everyone that happens to be in attendance looks like they all make at least six figures a year.

Minhyuk had told him that it was a formal event, but to dress however he wants. Not wanting to stick out like a sore thumb, he opts to wear his black pinstriped slacks (the ones he only wears for interviews), his nicest black silk shirt and he styled his bright orange hair up away from his face. He still looks underdressed compared to the people dressed to the nines in designer gear (which is, honestly, _everyone_ but Jooheon), but he at least looks like he _tried_ to fit in.

He instantly takes a glass of champagne as soon as it’s offered in an attempt to drink away some of his nerves. He glances around awkwardly, trying to find a place to put himself that is not in the way while he waits for Minhyuk to appear. The gallery is large and open with multiple, stand-alone walls placed throughout the middle of the room and all available spaces are plastered with the blond man’s works. Eventually, he walks away across the shiny marble floor to stand near a large canvas that currently has no one looking at it.

Minhyuk predominantly works with watercolor, Jooheon remembers him saying, and the piece Jooheon is looking at is painted in different hues of blue, black, grey and purple, depicting a galaxy show casing a constellation he doesn’t recognize with splashes of white. It’s incredibly beautiful and complicated, the way each color blends into the next is so seamless it’s a little hard to discern where one color ends and the next begins. He stares at it for some time, before eventually a soft, husky voice whispers into his ear.

“I hear the artist is an absolute weirdo.”

Jooheon jumps a little but manages to not to shriek in surprise as he turns around to glare half-heartedly at a laughing Minhyuk while clutching his chest in shock, thankfully he didn’t spill the contents of his champagne flute. His heart is beating fast—partially from being startled but also because Minhyuk looks as beautiful as always, clad in an expensive-looking white button down with the first few buttons undone to show off the necklace with the rose pendant he often wears, the front of it tucked into tailored slacks.

“Jesus Christ, you scared me,” Jooheon hisses eventually after he catches his breath. “You’re right though, the artist _is_ a weirdo.”

Minhyuk grins at him. “I only state facts! Have you had a chance to look around?”

“Only a little bit—I just got here,” he confesses, turning back to the large canvas they’re standing in front of. “This is beautiful, by the way. I had no idea you were so talented.”

“Ah, I suppose my napkin art didn’t give you enough to go off of,” Minhyuk snorts, snatching Jooheon’s glass out of his hand to take a sip out of it, much to Jooheon’s chagrin. “Thank you, though. It’s nothing special really, but I appreciate the compliment.”

He can’t help but roll his eyes at the blond. “If you’re not talented, then I guess no one is. Seriously how do you…” he trails off, gesturing vaguely at the array of colors creating the realistic looking galaxy, “…_do_ all that?”

“With a paint brush, normally.”

“…Hilarious.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling you for _weeks_ now. Glad you caught on.”

_Why_ Jooheon had to have the biggest crush on such an insufferable person, he had no idea. “You’re impossible and terrible at taking compliments.” He snatches the glass of champagne back out of Minhyuk’s hand to take his own sip and secretly chastises himself for feeling like a teenager with how excited he is at sharing the same glass. What is he, fourteen?! 

“_Maybe_,” the other amends, blinking unevenly at Jooheon. “But I do love compliments, so keep ‘em coming.” Jooheon snorts in reply and Minhyuk takes his elbow to lead him to one of the paintings near the center of the gallery. “This is the main piece—you’ve sort of seen it already.”

Jooheon blinks as he stares at the canvas, which is much longer than it is wide. It’s a much more detailed version of the sketch Minhyuk had drawn at the bar (which, by the way, is still on his fridge). It’s a humpback whale breaching the ocean in the center. Underneath it shows the ocean below where two other whales swim and above shows the night sky, the moon backlighting the breaching whale. It’s absolutely gorgeous.

“Holy shit,” he says quietly, glancing over at Minhyuk who manages to look a bit proud at Jooheon’s reaction. “Why in the hell do you not want people to know you’ve painted these? No one knows that you’re the artist, right?”

“Shh,” the blond shushes as he presses a finger to his lips, glancing around. “I don’t know--I just like anonymity, I guess.” He shoves his hands into his pockets as he appraises the painting he created. “I’d rather people just focus on the art and not on me, if that makes sense. I don’t want to distract from it.”

_That _does_ make sense_, Jooheon thinks, on account Minhyuk is a work of art all on his own.

Not that he’ll say it out loud, of course.

“Come on, let’s walk around,” says Minhyuk, taking Jooheon’s elbow again to tug him along once more.

“Don’t you want to talk to the other people?” Jooheon asks, furrowing his eyebrows as he allows himself to be led. “If you need to ditch me for a while, I totally understand.”

Minhyuk shakes his head, his fluffy blond hair swishing with the movement. “The only person I care about that’s here, really, is you.” Jooheon flushes from the bottom of his neck to the tips of his ears and he tries his best to ignore that it’s happening. “How’s the job hunt coming?” the other asks conversationally.

“Oh,” says Jooheon, releasing a little sigh. “Still no luck—the last place I tried for, that office job I told you about, has a prerequisite of having at least an AA degree. So, needless to say I got a polite email that said: ‘Sucks to be you, chump. You’re not educated enough.’”

“I’m sure you’ll find something,” says Minhyuk, pulling them to stop at another detailed watercolor painting, this one in pink, orange and yellow. The way Minhyuk smiles at him is genuine. “Things will look up, I promise. I’ll let you know if I hear about any openings anywhere.”

“Thanks.” Jooheon smiles back, finishing off the last of the champagne and he gestures at Minhyuk with the glass. “Hey, maybe your company will be hiring and we could be coworkers,” he jokes.

The expression that falls on Minhyuk’s pretty face is not what he expects. It’s a dark look that he’s never seen before and, to be honest, it startles him though he doesn’t show it. He watches Minhyuk frown and turn away, looking to the canvas near them.

“Trust me, you wouldn’t want to work where I do,” he says darkly.

Jooheon blinks in response, not sure how to respond. From what he’s gathered of what Minhyuk has told him, he works for some overseas company remotely and has strange hours on account of that. He hasn’t been told much else. “Well,” he tries, trying to lighten the mood as he nudges Minhyuk’s shoulder, “not like I’d be qualified anyway. I can’t even get a secretary job.”

Minhyuk turns to him to smile small and the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Oh, being qualified doesn’t matter. You’d just have to sell your soul to the devil.”

☼

** _April 6th_ **

As the time passes, Minhyuk is still unsure as to what exactly his and Jooheon’s relationship _is_. They see each other consistently every week, both at The Last Round where Minhyuk drinks and Jooheon serves, as well as outside the bar. They’ve caught a few midnight showings of movies (Jooheon always orders a large popcorn to share, but Minhyuk politely declines—he does sip on the large Coke he always gets, though), they’ve gone on a couple of walks and went to a 24hour arcade. It’s been nice, incredibly fun, and Minhyuk falls more for Jooheon every day. The problem is they’ve never agreed that any of these excursions are ‘dates’ or otherwise and he’s too afraid to ask.

If they’re just hanging out as friends, he knows that he’s crossing a boundary that he’s set himself as far as his human relationships go which is, always, nowhere. If they’re _dating_, then he’s completely obliterated that boundary, tossed it over a bridge and given it a pair of cement shoes. He knows what they’re doing is not _okay_ for him to do, but he’s in so deep now and has gotten so _good_ at ignoring the rules he’s followed for years that he barely even tries any more.

It’s currently late Saturday night and his last few days have been rough, all because of the shit Jinyoung has had him do. Unfortunately, Minhyuk happens to be a master of the ability to dominate—the discipline of being able to manipulate a human’s thoughts, desires and memories to a terrifying degree. Because of this, whenever a human ‘saw too much’ or ‘asked too many questions’ the Prince would make an order to have their memory erased, which is where Minhyuk came in.

If the individual simply needed a few minutes forgotten or maybe an evening, it was simple business and relatively safe. However, occasionally much more needed to be taken away from a mind—sometimes months or even years which was _much_ more dangerous.

The human mind was two sides of the same coin. On one side it could be incredibly strong, but on the other it can be equally as fragile—it can only take so much before it breaks and sometimes it falls into a million different pieces where no amount of glue can put it back together again.

Earlier that night, Minhyuk broke a young woman’s mind completely and it was entirely his fault.

He hadn’t known her personally. She was human, but part of his community as she had been a ghoul of some Kindred from the LA area. Evidently her mistress had gone missing and she was so desperate to try and find her she was asking _everyone_, Kine and Kindred alike, if they had seen her and crying about needing blood. Crying that if she didn’t get it, she’d age. Crying that if she didn’t get it, she’d start to die again. She was drawing too much attention to herself and, according to Jinyoung, she had to be stopped.

The problem was that Minhyuk had to try and remove too much, remove all problematic memories that would lead her to believe that vampires exist. Since she had been a ghoul for over five years, it equated to literally hundreds of memories that had to be taken away from her and barely left anything behind.

He _tried_ to replace the memories, try and replace them with thoughts that were similar but different, but the poor woman’s mind just couldn’t take it. She was left in her apartment completely comatose once he was done with her. When he had called Jinyoung to tell him, his only response was, “Oh, well. At least she’s not a problem now. I’ll have someone anonymously call an ambulance for her, so you’re done.” Then he disconnected the line.

Minhyuk feels numb as he stands outside of The Last Round and it’s already past 2:30 in the morning. He _never_ comes here on Saturdays as the bar is incredibly busy and in turn, Jooheon isn’t able to talk to him which is the only reason he comes to begin with. And yet there he stands as he is unable to fight the urge to, at the very least, _see_ the orange-haired man to hopefully calm his dark thoughts.

Eventually he decides to walk in and as he suspected the bar is packed even at the late hour. He sneaks past unnoticed, not glancing at Jooheon as he passes near the bar before he makes his way back as far as possible. He moves himself to a small table in one of the corners where he shields himself so the patrons littered around him pay him no mind. Once he’s settled, he hones his hearing, rushing past all the chatter and background noise to find the voice that matches his favorite heartbeat.

The sound of Jooheon’s cheerful voice sends a calm over his entire being, like slipping into a warm bath after a terrible day. He listens as he chats with his customers, laughing and joking along as he mixes their drinks and accepts his tips. However, there is one thing Minhyuk can’t help but notice…

Jooheon is _incredibly_ drunk.

This fact catches him by surprise. He’s never seen Jooheon drink on the job before—in fact, he’s sure that the younger man had told him that drinking while at work was prohibited. But, Minhyuk can hear it in his words and how he slurs them together. It makes Minhyuk wonder what may have happened to bring the other to this point and he can’t help but frown at the thought.

He ends up staying inside the bar until the crowd slowly starts dispersing which is when he decides to take his leave. As he slips back outside amongst the flock, he notices that Jooheon seems to be leaning heavily against the counter he stands behind, unable to stand straight on his own.

He had every intention of heading home without Jooheon knowing he had been there, but he can’t bring himself to do it. Instead, he hovers next to the bar near the alley, watching the door as he waits for the orange-haired man to leave the establishment. He wants to make sure he’s safe.

It takes some time, but eventually he watches as two forms stumble out of the exit. He sees Jooheon’s orange head being carried along by the other bartender who he recalls being a kid named Youngjae. As he observes while Youngjae struggles to lock up the bar, Jooheon slung over his shoulder, the other bartender is clearly drunk too and is struggling to stay on his own feet.

Minhyuk bites at his bottom lip, fighting—yet again—with himself on what the right course of action is, but when he sees the two nearly topple over onto the sidewalk, he decides against what probably would be his better judgement. He briskly walks over to the duo and stands in front of Youngjae who had just managed to right himself again. The young boy looks at him in confusion—Minhyuk can smell the alcohol in his blood, but he realizes that he isn’t as drunk as Jooheon is. Jooheon’s entire being smells like someone popped open a case of Everclear and decided to bathe in it.

When Minhyuk’s eyes connect with Youngjae’s, he easily slips into his mind to put in the command to hand Jooheon over to him, which he immediately does. He also manages to find Jooheon’s address floating around the kid’s thoughts before he ultimately sends him on his way, having forgot the whole exchange and popping in the memory that Youngjae had placed Jooheon in a cab.

When Youngjae stumbles away, Minhyuk releases a sigh as he stands there with Jooheon’s arm slinked over his shoulder and his arm securely wrapped around the younger man’s waist. Jooheon’s head is lulled completely downward and Minhyuk is positive that the man has no idea where he is.

“Well,” says Minhyuk, speaking to himself, “this night turned into a total shit show.”

He pulls them to the edge of the sidewalk. Jooheon clearly weighs more than Minhyuk, but the blond has supernatural strength on his side which makes lugging around the thicker man relatively easy (even with Jooheon barely being able to move his feet). Thankfully he’s able to hail a cab and he places Jooheon as gently as he can into the backseat to sit next to the window, sliding in next to him in the middle seat as he quickly tells the driver Jooheon’s address.

He huffs out another sigh when the yellow taxi turns off of the street and he settles his back a bit more fully against the fraying seats but blinks when he feels the frame next to him slump against his side.

“Are you still with me?” Minhyuk asks quietly.

“Sorta,” Jooheon slurs, blinking slowly up at Minhyuk before letting his head fall against his shoulder. “When’d you g’here.”

“Not too long ago,” he lies as Jooheon’s body seems to attempt to meld to his side. “Seems like you had quite the evening. Everything okay?”

The other snorts, his face almost in the crook of Minhyuk’s neck. “Nope.”

“Why is that?” he asks as the cab makes a turn and their bodies sway with the motion.

“Same shit, different day,” is all Jooheon manages before he clumsily loops his arm with Minhyuk’s. “S’cold.”

Minhyuk sighs. “Bad circulation, remember? You’d probably be warmer laying against the window, honestly.”

Jooheon shakes his head rapidly but seems to get dizzy when he does which makes Minhyuk reach out with his large hand to still him. “No,” the other man says stubbornly, a pout forming on his full lips as he squeezes his eyes shut. “S’cold, but you’re soft. S’comfy or whatever.”

Minhyuk laughs at that, petting at Jooheon’s hair because he can’t help himself. “Well as long as you’re comfy, right?” He feels Jooheon’s head stutter with a nod.

The rest of the drive is ridden in silence as Jooheon passes out against him, snoring softly at his side, their arms still looped together (which Minhyuk enjoys _way_ too much). Once the cab comes to a halt, he pays the driver in cash before hauling Jooheon awkwardly out of the back seat.

Once Jooheon’s arm is slung over his shoulder again, Minhyuk now baring his full weight, he looks up in some confusion. They’re standing in front of a shady looking pawn shop that has _really_ seen better days. The brick of the building is chipping away and the metal sign above the door is nearly rusted through. He looks down at Jooheon’s slumping head wondering if Youngjae had his address wrong.

“Jooheon,” Minhyuk urges, shaking the man by his waist. “Is this where you live?”

The orange-haired man mumbles something and doesn’t say anything again until Minhyuk starts shaking him continuously. “Wha?” he says, lifting his head up, looking at the pawn shop as he pouts. “How’d I get here?”

Minhyuk groans. “That’s not important, Jooheon. Do you live here?”

The other swings his head to look at Minhyuk’s face in utter surprise, his eyes as wide as they can go (which isn’t very). “Woah, you’re here?”

He starts laughing because he doesn’t know what else to do. “Jesus Christ, how much did you _drink_?”

“…Don’t ‘member.”

“Do you live here?” he tries again. “Above the pawn shop? _In_ the pawn shop? You have to help me out here.” Jooheon blinks at him a few times, shifts to look back at the brick building and then nods his head once. Minhyuk pauses. “And I say again, _above_ the shop, _in_ the--.”

“Above. Gotta got through the side door to get in.”

“Okay.” Minhyuk releases a sigh in relief as he adjusts Jooheon’s arm, pulling them along as he walks past the entrance to the shop into the alley next to it. Eventually they reach a door made of metal that leads into a set of rickety wooden stairs. Off to the side he sees three small mailboxes, the name on unit number 3 reading: ‘J. Lee’.

As he carries himself and Jooheon up the stairs relatively smoothly, he hears his counterpart slur, “Holy shit. You’re kinda strong, aren’t you? You do pilates or something?” Minhyuk pauses for half a second before he starts laughing to the point he nearly drops the person he’s carrying. “Woah, watch it!”

“Oh my _God_, are you always like this when you’re drunk?” he can’t help but ask. He hasn’t had to deal with someone this wasted in over a decade.

“Dunno,” says Jooheon. “Don’t normally remember.”

“_That_ doesn’t surprise me.”

Eventually they make it to the top of the stairs and he walks to the last door in the hallway. They stop in front of the door with has chipped grey paint and glances back to Jooheon, asking him if he has his keys. In response the younger man digs them out of his pocket and hands them obediently to Minhyuk who grabs the larger of the two keys on the ring to open the door.

“Alright, let’s get you to bed,” sighs Minhyuk, walking them into the apartment and flipping the light switch on.

With a quick once over, Minhyuk isn’t surprised that Jooheon’s apartment looks about as nice as the outside of it did. It’s small—_really _small. The floors are made of scuffed up wood that’s probably from when the building was originally built. His kitchen appliances are all yellow from either age, tobacco use, or both (though he does notice the napkin he gave him is truly on Jooheon’s fridge, which makes him smile). The only furniture that’s in the large space that shares the kitchen is an old leather couch covered in cracks and a dingey coffee table.

Eventually he gets them to the only other door he sees which he opens with his free hand. All that is inside is a mattress with a box spring but no frame sitting on the floor, a used dresser and a small table lamp next to another door which he guesses leads to a bathroom. The room is dark, but Minhyuk is able to see as if it was bathed in light and is easily able to switch the lamp on.

“Alright, Mr. Lee,” says Minhyuk finally, crouching near the bed to plop Jooheon down onto it. “How are we feeling?”

Jooheon sits on the edge of the bed and glances around. Minhyuk_ really_ doesn’t need to ask him this question as he can smell that the blood-alcohol level of Jooheon’s blood has been steadily decreasing, but he still would like to hear it from the man himself. “Okay,” he says and looks up at Minhyuk. He’s swaying a little.

“Why don’t you get into your pajamas while I get you some water. Does that sound okay?” Jooheon nods clumsily and Minhyuk can’t help but look at him in endearment. Even though Jooheon is incredibly drunk, he’s still absolutely adorable. If his heart still worked, it would probably beat faster just by looking at the man’s sweet face.

He briskly walks back into the kitchen and starts going through the cupboards, attempting to find a glass of some sort. All the cupboards are empty except one, which houses only a few dishes. Minhyuk laughs outright when he grabs the only coffee cup that Jooheon owns—it’s black with white writing that reads ‘Fuck this shit’ on the side. He fills the cup with cold water from the sink before walking back to the room, only to find Jooheon struggling in the center of the bed as he attempts to remove his skin-tight jeans.

Minhyuk bites his lip, successfully holding in the giggle his body wants to expel as he walks over quietly, setting the mug of water down onto the floor next to the bed. “Need some help?”

Jooheon’s head shoots to look at him in shock, as if he surprised to see him, and merely utters an eloquent: “Uh.”

He rolls his eyes as he crawls onto the bed. “Come on, let’s get these off. You’ll sleep like garbage if you keep them on.”

“But,” Jooheon starts, the flush in his skin partially being from the alcohol—the rest most likely from embarrassment, “you’ll see my thighs.”

Minhyuk quirks an eyebrow, not commenting on how Jooheon noticeably swallows as Minhyuk approaches, sitting back on his knees as he looks down at Jooheon. He doesn’t allow his mind to wander to other things he knows they could possibly do in this bed...In another world, maybe. “Well, pants do cover thighs. I don’t see the problem.”

“But my thighs are _fat_.”

Minhyuk’s entire being is offended by this statement. “Jooheon, you are _anything_ but fat. Your thighs are perfect, okay? But if it makes you feel better, I won’t look at them.” Jooheon nods at that, seeming to ignore the comment Minhyuk made about his thighs. He scoots a little closer, leaning over to let his fingers sink into the top of his pants, fingers brushing over the skin of Jooheon’s soft tummy.

“Cold,” the orange-haired man hisses and Minhyuk apologizes right after.

And Minhyuk is a liar. He says he won’t look, but he does. Once he manages to get the pants past Jooheon’s gorgeous, thick thighs, he looks over the creamy skin and glances over the tight black boxer briefs with the slight bulge hidden underneath them.

He’s a horrible, terrible liar.

Once the pants are fully off, he tosses them over the side of the bed and looks back, withholding a shaky exhale. “See? Better, right?”

Jooheon is looking at him, eyes staring right into his, lips parted slightly. Minhyuk watches with too much interest as a pink tongue leaves his mouth to swipe over his bottom lip and the brown eyes flicker around Minhyuk’s face. All Minhyuk can hope is that Jooheon doesn’t realize that he’s half hard inside of his designer jeans, but at the same time he _wants_ him to know and that thought alone is incredibly dangerous.

“Minhyuk,” Jooheon says quietly and Minhyuk just looks at him. He half thought that Jooheon didn’t realize who was helping him tonight with how out of it he seemed, but that was clearly not the case. He cants his head in Jooheon’s direction, knowing that he should climb off the bed, but he stays perched on his knees. “Should I take this off too?” the man asks him, grabbing at the hem of his black t-shirt.

Minhyuk is left speechless and his mind is blank. He opens his mouth and closes it right after. “Um, if you sleep without it, then sure?” he says. He doesn’t know what he should do, but he feels his dick twitch in response.

Jooheon decides for him. The younger man, much more coordinated than before, sits up to slip his shirt off and tosses it off the bed to join his pants and Minhyuk’s eyes roam hungrily over the newly exposed torso. Jooheon’s body is soft, but there is muscle underneath to give _just_ enough definition—every inch of him is beautiful. Minhyuk’s eyes flash back up to Jooheon’s in time to watch him lean over, hand slipping into the hair at the back of Minhyuk’s neck and he kisses him soundly on the lips. Seconds pass but they feel like hours in Minhyuk’s mind at the touch—he had daydreamed about kissing Jooheon for months, but never thought he could.

And he shouldn’t. He really,_ really_ shouldn’t. He should gently push Jooheon away, apologize softly and leave the apartment. He should leave and never come back. That’s what he _should_ do.

But he does the opposite. Minhyuk pushes his lips against Jooheon’s, raising his big hands to gently place them on each side of Jooheon’s face and he feels how the younger man shivers at the difference in their body temperature but doesn’t pull away.

They fall back against the bed, Jooheon only in his underwear, Minhyuk still fully clothed and he presses against him. The kiss doesn’t break as Jooheon opens his mouth to let Minhyuk lick inside and the man moans in response and the sound _does_ something to Minhyuk.

He dives in to deepen the kiss even further, unable to control himself as he lets his hand slide from Jooheon’s face, down his chest and past his stomach to sweep across his thigh. He cups his hand behind his knee to hoist the leg up to prompt Jooheon to wrap it around Minhyuk’s hip which the other eagerly does. The younger man’s skin is so soft and warm, the feeling is utterly addicting.

And Minhyuk feels like he’s drowning—drowning in everything Jooheon. The other man still smells and tastes vaguely of alcohol but there’s an underlining taste that is so distinctly _Jooheon_ and Minhyuk can’t help coming back for more.

Jooheon is fully hard now and so is Minhyuk as their mouths continue to meld together, barely parting and the sound of smacking lips floods the room. Eventually Joohoon _does_ part from him to gasp shortly for air and Minhyuk takes the opportunity to kiss over his cheek to reach an ear lobe that he pulls greedily into his mouth and sucks.

The body underneath him does a fully body shiver as he moans, pushing Minhyuk’s face into him further and whining out a quiet ‘more’. Minhyuk obliges, nipping the earlobe before creeping back down to Jooheon’s neck, the pulse throbbing underneath which he licks at and suckles. His free hand is now resting comfortably at Jooheon’s soft hip, enjoying how the skin gives as he sinks his fingers in.

Minhyuk continues to lightly bite and kiss Jooheon’s neck, careful not to leave any large marks, but the skin is left pink even after his best efforts. He continues with his pursuit of ravishing the younger man when it finally dawns on him that Jooheon has fallen still. He lifts his head up in confusion to find that Jooheon has his small eyes closed, his mouth parted not in pleasure—but in sleep.

Jooheon _fell_ asleep.

Minhyuk stares at him in disbelief as he listens to the other begin to snore. He slowly leans back to sit on his knees once again, dick still hard in the confines of his jeans as he tries to process what the _fuck_ he’s even doing.

He sits there for a while, simply staring, but eventually gets up from the bed to grab the duvet that’s fallen into a crumpled mess on the floor. He sighs through his nose while he gently places the blanket over Jooheon’s sleeping form, tucking it in a bit around the edges to ensure he won’t get cold. He turns off the lamp on the dresser before he leaves and glances back over his shoulder once he’s at the bedroom door.

“You’re going to be the end of me, I think,” he mutters, taking one final glance at Jooheon’s sleeping face before finally closing the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for reading!! I'm glad it seems that there are some people who are enjoying this story so far so I hope this chapter was a fun read even though it was pretty long! 
> 
> All feedback, Kudos and comments are always greatly appreciated. I love you all!


	3. April to June

** _April 7th _ **

Sleep is a strange thing for Kindred. They never feel _physically_ tired—that need expires as soon as their hearts stop beating. However, although the heart stops pumping blood through their veins, the mind never stops working. Minhyuk, in turn, never feels physically exhausted, but he _does_ suffer from mental exhaustion, which is exactly what he felt when he got to his apartment after finally leaving Jooheon.

His mind and feelings were in complete disarray. Between the poor woman he left comatose to his break in common sense with kissing Jooheon, he was left with such a sense of loss he nearly didn’t know what to do with himself—which is why he slept.

Minhyuk doesn’t like sleeping. While he is awake, he at least looks alive. He makes a show of breathing (mostly out of habit), blinking his eyes an acceptable amount and he is able to move around naturally enough. When he sleeps, although he’s never seen it, he knows he looks like a corpse. His body doesn’t move, his chest doesn’t rise or fall, and he doesn’t snore. He’s always had a fear that a human would manage to somehow get into his apartment, see what they would think is a dead body in a bed and take him away to only God knows where.

The bright side to sleeping is vampires have the same positive effects after a good night of it, but they also rarely dream and all Minhyuk needs is a break from his mind at that point.

He wakes up at two in the afternoon feeling a little refreshed when he finally gets out of his large king-sized bed covered in Egyptian cotton sheets. He stretches his arms above his head before he adjusts his silk pajama bottoms and tries not to let his mind wander too much as he proceeds to leave his bedroom.

Minhyuk’s apartment isn’t very typical. About ten years ago, he stumbled upon a basement apartment for sale in a luxury apartment building. The bedroom and bathroom are lofted above the main floor and you reach it by walking up a relatively steep set of stairs. The bottom floor is just one massive area covered in expensive tiles that he has partitioned into designated areas. The left side of the room is his studio, the area cluttered in easels, paints, multiple sizes of canvases, finished and unfished paintings. The center of the room nearer to the main wall is his living room which houses a large, purple velvet couch, matching loveseat, a glass coffee table, an oak bookshelf and a home entertainment system that doesn’t see much use.

The back is for his kitchen and dining room that he only uses for the fridge to store his blood packs and a few cases of Coca Cola. There’s a lot of unused space in his apartment but it suits him just fine—he only uses the place as a haven from the sun, to paint to his heart’s content and to sleep when he needs to.

Although the floor is tiled and his bare feet should make noises as he walks across it, his steps are completely silent. He walks to his kitchen, reaches his Smeg refrigerator and retrieves an unopened blood pack from its confines. After he shoves a metal straw into the plastic, he walks out of the kitchen and over to his canvases, sipping while he goes.

He stops, staring at the one painting that didn’t sell from his art show—the painted galaxy which showcases the constellation Cetus. He figures it didn’t sell as not enough people understood the subject matter but recalled that Jooheon had enjoyed it. Maybe he should give it to him as a gift.

Ah. Jooheon.

Minhyuk shakes his head, trying to rid the thought that was trying to lead to last night’s events and, honestly, he’s not ready to address it yet. If he thinks about it, he’ll start remembering how Jooheon’s lips felt on his or how if he closes his eyes he can still feel them there, pressed against his in such urgency and lust-- 

He shakes his head _again_ as the last thing he needs is to get horny right now. He’ll talk to Jooheon about it—he’ll _have_ to—but in many ways Minhyuk can be a coward and he needs to escape his reality. What he always does whenever he needs a break from his waking thoughts was to paint and that’s exactly what he does.

He takes out a fresh canvas, sized 36-by-48 inches, the standard size he generally uses and gets to work. He chooses his watercolor paints on a whim, but ends up selecting shades of orange, yellow and brown—the colors he’s been gravitating towards over the past few months.

He paints for some time, not thinking about anything else and just letting the creativity flow naturally onto the canvas as he expertly blends and melds the colors together. He continues to sweep the brush across his canvas, enjoying how the brush makes a gentle noise as he works his way around. The orange forms near the top of his canvas which leads into a light peach, accents of yellow and brown added along the way.

He paints in silence for quite some time and it takes him nearly two hours to realize that he has, in fact, painted an abstract work of a man with tangerine hair, brown eyes and deep-set dimples. He has painted Jooheon.

He blinks at the painting his inner thoughts managed to conjure and he can’t say he’s surprised. _I’m in so deep_, he thinks, a feeling of desperation washing over him as he sets the paint brush down to rest on the ridge of his easel. He continues to look at the canvas for a time—he doesn’t know how long as he often loses himself while he looks at art, his or otherwise—when the sound of his phone vibrating noisily atop the shelf he keeps his extra materials on catches his attention.

He walks over, hoping vaguely that it isn’t another task being asked of him from Jinyoung. He picks up the phone and sees that a text from a certain orange-haired man is sitting in his notifications.

**[Jooheon 4:38pm]** Hey Min. Did you help me get home last night? Things are a little fuzzy…

Minhyuk stares at his phone blankly, biting his bottom lip in thought as he rereads the message several times until all the words are ingrained in his memory. Does Jooheon _really_ not remember what happened or does he only want Minhyuk to _think_ he doesn’t remember? He doesn’t know how he should feel about either of the options as his stomach sinks at the thought of both. It takes him an embarrassing amount of time to formulate a response, but he does eventually send what he feels like a natural sounding message. 

**[Minhyuk 5:14pm]** hi Jooheon sorry for the delay I was painting!! I did help you get home last night, are you feeling okay???

He walks over to his velvet couch and plops down onto it when he hits send. He crouches over, elbows on his knees as he watches his phone screen with his lips pressed together. He doesn’t move until it lights up with a response which he immediately opens.

**[Jooheon 5:18pm]** I feel like I was run over with a steam roller but I’m okay. Thanks for helping me get home. Uuum I didn’t do anything weird right? I can be a lot to handle when I’m drunk and I honestly can’t remember a lot

His mind moves fast as he tries to formulate an answer. His heart hurts a little when Jooheon seems as if he really _doesn’t_ remember their encounter in the man’s bed. He struggles, trying to decide if it would be better to tell him what happened or if he should try and take this as a blessing—a ‘get out of jail free’ card to try and keep their relationship from being muddied or overly complicated.

He sighs through his nose, torn. He’s probably just playing with fire—Jooheon was the one who initiated the kiss and though he was drunk, Minhyuk could tell that the younger man knew what he was doing at the time and clearly had wanted it. If it could happen once, it could happen again, but ultimately (and probably stupidly) he decides that it’s a problem for a future Minhyuk to handle. He quickly types on his phone. 

**[Minhyuk 5:21pm]** lol you are definitely an INTERESTING drunk my dear. You asked me if I did pilates which is definitely weird but otherwise you’re golden. I just got you into bed and left

Minhyuk slumps back onto the couch once he sends off the message, throwing an arm over his eyes as he feels a wave of guilt at his lie, but tries to convince himself it’s ultimately for the best. His phone vibrates again almost instantly in his hand with another text.

**[Jooheon 5:21pm]** Oh thank GOD I was worried I puked on you or something

He can’t help the smile at Jooheon’s relief—of course the man was worried about _puke_ of all things. They text back and forth for a while longer before he ultimately tells Jooheon that he needs go, to take care and that he’ll talk to him later. When he sees the message he gets back, he lays down onto the couch to stare blankly at his tall ceiling, a myriad of different emotions flowing through his mind, his phone still lit up with the notification.

**[Jooheon 5:33pm]** I will! Thanks again. You’re seriously the best.

…he really isn’t.

☼

Jooheon’s wakes up with a groan as the light shines into his bedroom from his dirty window. His head feels like someone tried splitting it open with an axe and he miserably pulls his blanket over his head to try and block out the blinding rays of the sun. He was waking up with one hell of a hangover.

He slips his arm from under the blanket to roam blindly over the other side of the mattress in search of his phone. He gets frustrated when he can’t feel anything, finally relenting and sits up in his bed, squinting his eyes in pain when he leaves the darkness.

He groans in annoyance as he leans over his bed to reach the jeans he wore the night before and is relieved to find that his phone had fallen underneath them. He grabs the device and hits the home button to check the time—it’s already past 4:30pm. He tosses his phone onto the mattress as he squeezes his eyes shut, taking his thumb and pointer finger to squeeze at the bridge of his nose to try and relieve the pressure he feels in his temples while he tries to recall the night before.

He remembers being in a bad mood when he had gotten to the bar. He had accidentally slept through his interview for another job that morning and they weren’t willing to reschedule. Youngjae had been adamant about having him do a few shots in an attempt to cheer him up and he thinks that’s when everything went downhill.

He releases his nose and opens his eyes again to look around his bedroom, trying to recall how he managed to make it home in one piece. So much of the night was missing that he had to really concentrate to try and pick up the pieces that were left over. He remembers, _vaguely_, leaving the bar with Youngjae when they were closing and then getting into a cab that he’s pretty sure he didn’t pay for.

The distinct memory of white blond hair pops into his head along with an uneven blink and Jooheon blanches at the realization.

_Oh, God,_ he thinks, staring at the dingey wall across from his bed in abject horror, _Minhyuk was with me when I was drunk_.

Jooheon wouldn’t say he was a _bad_ drunk per se, but he truly had no control over his inhibitions, acting on nearly any impulse that entered his fuzzy mind. This could be anything from continuing to drink too many shots, telling an offensive joke amongst…_other things_. Knowing he was around the object of his desire while he was inebriated and the fact he can’t _remember_ what may or may not have happened throws him into full-on panic mode.

He grabs at his phone with shaky hands. Minhyuk and him had exchanged numbers sometime prior but truthfully, they didn’t text much. Minhyuk stated that he preferred to talk in person and Jooheon, even though he would fight the urge frequently to not text the blond nonsensical and unimportant things, respected that. They mostly used texting just to confirm when they’d meet up which is why Jooheon felt a little strange pulling up their relatively vacant text log.

**[Jooheon 4:38pm]** Hey Min. Did you help me get home last night? Things are a little fuzzy…

He hits send and watches his phone for a few minutes but isn’t surprised by the lack of immediate response—there’s a chance that Minhyuk is still sleeping. After five minutes of watching, he releases a short sigh, trying not to think too hard on the situation until he at least gets a response.

He gets up and starts his day the best that he can, leaving his phone on his bed to charge. He goes to the bathroom and brushes last night’s alcohol out of his mouth, pops a few extra strength pain killers to combat his hangover and heads into the shower after removing the contacts he slept in by accident.

He stays in there until the water runs cold and once he’s out again he steps over to the sink to wipe the fog away from the mirror to stare at himself. Unsurprisingly, he looks tired and miserable—he debates idly in his head about heading back to bed since he’s off that night when he realizes the right side of his neck is splattered with light pink marks.

He squints in confusion, leaning closer to the mirror and cranes his neck to get a better look and sure enough there are at least 3 distinct pink marks—one under his ear, one in the middle of his neck and the last closer to his collarbone and he has no clue how they got there. Maybe he’s getting a rash? He hopes not. 

He dries himself off lazily, puts on a pair of old sweatpants and finally makes his way back to his bed. Once he’s safely under the confines of his blanket, he reaches for his phone to see he has one unread message and his heart skips a beat as he opens it. 

**[Minhyuk 5:14pm]** hi Jooheon sorry for the delay I was painting!! I did help you get home last night are you feeling okay???

Jooheon laughs a little at the message. He can clearly imagine Minhyuk saying it to him in his husky voice.

**[Jooheon 5:18pm]** I feel like I was run over with a steam roller but I’m okay. Thanks for helping me get home. Uuum I didn’t do anything weird right? I can be a lot to handle when I’m drunk and I honestly can’t remember a lot

When he receives Minhyuk’s response he breathes a tangible sigh as relief washes over him as he reads that he didn’t do anything alarming—he can handle the fact that he talked about pilates when he knows he could have done something much, _much_ worse.

**[Jooheon 5:21pm]** Oh thank GOD I was worried I puked on you or something

**[Minhyuk 5:25pm]** If that would have happened I wouldn’t let you live it down haha but nothing to worry about it. I just wanted to make sure you got home safe 

**[Jooheon 5:27pm]** Safe and sound thanks to you. Thanks for helping me out I can pay you back for the cab if you want

**[Minhyuk 5:28pm]** Nah don’t worry about it but maaaaaaaaybe don’t drink like that anytime soon. I feel sorry for your poor liver :(

**[Jooheon 5:30pm]** I’ll make it up to you then somehow! And don’t worry I don’t normally drink like that so it’s not a habit

**[Minhyuk 5:32pm]** better not be!!! D:< you gotta take care of yourself!! I need to get going though. Talk to you later yeah? Drink some fluids and rest up!

Jooheon sends off one final message saying he will and closes the chat on his phone. He falls back onto his bed so he can stare up at his ceiling, feeling infinitely better after getting confirmation from Minhyuk. He had been terrified that his drunk self would have tried making a move on the blond which would have made him incredibly embarrassed.

At least last night’s drunk-Jooheon had some self-control.

☼

** _May 9th_ **

Minhyuk is slowly finding out that he is incredibly weak willed. After the encounter he had early the prior month with Jooheon, he decided at that time that it may be a decent idea to try and distance himself a bit from the man. Maybe only seeing each other every other week or limiting his visits to the bar just on Thursdays would help the growing attraction he was continually experiencing.

That…did not pan out like he thought it would. He made it until 2am the following shift Jooheon had worked when he gave in and went to see him at the bar. After that, he completely gave up and realized trying to stay away from Jooheon, at this point, was futile. Seeing the orange-haired man is almost like a drug—he craves seeing him nearly as much as he craves painting, which was not an easy feat as painting had been his vice for as long as he can remember.

All he can do is hope that their relationship wouldn’t put either one of them in danger. He can handle himself getting into trouble, but if he did anything to harm Jooheon he knew he would never be able to forgive himself.

Minhyuk stands next to the entrance of The Last Round as he waits for Jooheon to finish closing. He’s started making it a habit of staying until the bar closes when he comes to visit so he can walk Jooheon to the bus stop, which is why he finds himself perched up against the wall of the building at 3:35am.

He busies himself with his phone, looking through Google to find some concept pictures for his next series of paintings he’s thinking of starting when Jooheon finally exits the door, a set of keys in his hand.

“Sorry that took so long,” says Jooheon, looking a bit sheepish as he turns to the door to fiddle with the lock. “I accidently broke a couple of glasses because I was rushing and had to clean them up.”

Minhyuk bites the side of his lip to stop a smile—he knew Jooheon had broken the glasses as he easily heard it through the door, but he pretends to look mildly surprised. “Oh, no—you didn’t hurt yourself, did you?”

Jooheon scoffs as he rolls his eyes, shoving his keys into the pocket of his pants before they begin to walk down the sidewalk. “_No_, I know how to clean up glass, thanks. I’m not a baby.”

“Could have fooled me, baby,” Minhyuk coos, chastising himself mentally as he relishes when Jooheon’s blushes.

“God, you’re so annoying,” he whines, pace quickening as he puts a hand on both his flushing cheeks in embarrassment.

Minhyuk increases his stride to keep up. “And yet you keep coming back for more!”

“Yeah, be glad I have low standards,” mumbles Jooheon and Minhyuk laughs, triggering the other man to laugh with him too. He stops only to reach up to rub at one of his eyes, looking as if he’s fighting a yawn. “Jesus Christ, I’m tired.”

Minhyuk successfully fights the urge to say, ‘Poor baby’ and chooses to look at Jooheon with sympathy instead. “You had to get up early for another interview this morning, right? How did it go? You never told me.”

Jooheon smiles at him, showcasing his perfectly adorable dimples that Minhyuk constantly wants to poke with his fingers. “I’m always surprised you remember this crap. Yeah, I did,” he says, yawning openly this time. “It went okay—better than the last couple. I just hope someone gets back to me.”

“Me too,” replies Minhyuk, and he means it. As he looks at Jooheon, he realizes the younger has smudged his eyeliner, the line streaking across to his temple. “Hey, stop for a second.” Jooheon stops obediently, blinking as Minhyuk steps closer, raising his hand to rest on the plump cheek. “You messed up your eyeliner.”

Minhyuk smells the blood rush into Jooheon’s face and ears as he, admittingly, gets closer to Jooheon than necessary when he rubs the side of his thumb in an attempt to correct the darkness on Jooheon’s lid. After he fixes the smudge, he’s unable to help himself as his hand lingers, still resting against the warm skin as they stare at each other, faces only inches apart.

He watches Jooheon’s pink lips part while looking at him and it honestly takes all Minhyuk’s willpower to ignore the fact that all he wants to do is kiss him. He stalls for a few long seconds, eventually compensating with a smile, patting Jooheon’s cheek lightly before stepping back. “There. I might have made it worse, though. Sorry.”

The younger man snorts, rubbing lightly where Minhyuk’s hand had just been. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Welcome,” laughs Minhyuk, his chest aching a little, while they start walking once again. “It’s kind of weird that you wore makeup today—don’t you normally just do that on the weekends?”

“Yeah, well,” sighs Jooheon, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “There’s two reasons for that. I was trying to get more tips—I found out that my wages are going to start getting garnished because I’ve gone too long without paying my student loans. If I don’t get another job or more tips, I’m totally fucked.”

Minhyuk purses his lips. He hesitates before saying, “You know I could help you out, right? Like, at least in the interim until you get another job. I could loan you some cash—it wouldn’t be a problem.” He wants to add that he has more money than he knows what to do with, which is the honest truth, but he feels like that would make Jooheon feel even worse about his situation, so he keeps it in.

Minhyuk is disappointed when Jooheon shakes his head. “No. I mean, thank you, honestly—but I don’t want to do that to you, even if you’re offering. I’ll figure something out, so don’t worry.” He grins at Minhyuk and he can’t help but smile back. He wagers it’s impossible _not_ to smile when Jooheon does, no matter what the situation.

“Well, if you change your mind, the offer stands.” Jooheon nods at him and they walk in a comfortable silence for a little while, their shoulders occasionally bumping together as they go. However, he breaks the silence when he remembers something. “Hey, what’s the second reason?”

“Hm?”

“The other reason why you’re wearing makeup tonight—you said there were two.”

“Oh,” says Jooheon, scratching at his nose as he stares straight ahead, not making eye contact with him. His face is, once again, flushing with all its might. It takes a minute before Jooheon finally speaks up.

“Because I was seeing you tonight.” 

☼

**_June 21st_**

Jooheon likes Minhyuk. S_eriously_ likes him. He knows he’s liked him for some time, called it a ‘crush’ in his head, but now that he’s consciously acknowledging it, it’s consuming all his thoughts regardless if he’s asleep or awake.

They continue to see one another multiple times a week. Minhyuk is at almost all his shifts at The Last Round with his smiling face sitting across the bar counter and they go on at least one outing every week. When they aren’t together, he thinks about what Minhyuk’s doing and dreams about him most nights. Hell, he even jacked off to him in the shower _multiple_ times, much to his embarrassment.

He isn’t proud of this, but he can’t help it. Minhyuk is beautiful, but he’s also funny, quick witted, eloquent, kind—he could seriously go on about the guy for hours, but the fact of the matter is that Jooheon is attracted to the blond, inside and out. If he lets his mind dawdle on how much he likes him, his mind seems to stumble frequently upon another specific _L_ word that he doesn’t know if he’s ready to admit, so he settles on ‘like’.

He’s at least accepted that much about the situation, but he doesn’t know what else to _do_ with it. When they spend time together, he’s _pretty_ sure that Minhyuk likes him too if how often they find excuses to touch each other is anything to go by. However, neither of them has admitted to anything and Jooheon is too scared to be the one to take the jump and say something. So, they continue acting as they do—friends where at least one party wants to be so, _so_ much more.

It’s Friday night. Jooheon doesn’t work and he’s somehow managed to convince Minhyuk to go clubbing with him. He hasn’t gone clubbing in ages, but for some reason he had a recent itching to go dancing and he figures that bringing his most favorite person in recent history along was a perfect excuse to go.

He dresses himself up for the occasion. He’s styled his hair up and away from his face and has liner with brown shadow smudged at the corners of his eyes. He’s wearing a dark blue blazer paired with a snug fitting shirt and black skinny jeans. His outfit is simple but when he glanced at himself in the mirror before he left that night, he _knew_ he looked good.

He waits behind the line at the club, leaning against the rough texture of the building as he struggles to pull his phone out of his pocket to check the time. It’s about a quarter to eleven—they were supposed to meet there at 10:30. Minhyuk is never late and he has a fleeting thought, suddenly scared that he’s being stood up.

He starts to text a message that could _maybe_ read as frantic when he hears someone jogging up to him from his right. He looks up and instantly his mouth drops before he can stop himself.

“Jooheon!” Minhyuk says, white-blond hair bouncing as he waves and stops right in front of him. “Sorry I’m late! I had to finish something up for work before I got here and had to rush to get ready. Does this look okay? I can’t even remember the last time I went to a club.”

Jooheon is listening but doesn’t reply right away as he simply stares. Why? Because Minhyuk is wearing fucking _leather pants_ and he doesn’t know what to do about it.

Not only that, but he’s wearing a white, sheer button up that is thin enough to see the pink of his skin through it and the first couple buttons, as usual, are undone to show off his rose pendant necklace. He tucks the front of the shirt into his leather pants (which are _red_, by the way), letting the back of the shirt flow loosely behind him. He looks like a walking wet dream.

Jooheon stares far too long with his mouth open as Minhyuk ends up walking a few paces closer, reaching out to lightly grip his chin, pressing up to close his mouth. The beautiful blond is grinning at him, blinking unevenly and Jooheon is blushing like an idiot. “Careful, you’re going to catch flies. I take it I look alright?”

Jooheon blinks at him, blushing harder as he tries to speak. “Uh, I—yeah, I mean, the pants are great. Tight. Which is cool.” _Jesus Christ_. Once he’s finished this debauchery of a statement, Jooheon immediately wants to fall into a ditch.

The other man bubbles out a laugh, still holding Jooheon’s chin between his thumb and pointer finger, using the grip to wiggle his head from side to side. “You’re seriously adorable when you get flustered, you know that?”

He has enough presence of mind to bat the blond’s hand away and glares half-heartedly as Minhyuk continues to giggle at him, canting his head to the side with his eyes the shape of crescent moons. “Stop it, I’m not flustered,” he mumbles, shoving his phone back into his pocket only to have an excuse to do something with his hands.

“You’re pouting.”

“Am not!”

“_Are too_.”

Jooheon groans, taking his face in his hands (_possibly_ to hide his pouting lips) and turns to head towards the line. “Come on, you bastard. Let’s get in line or we’ll never get in.”

“Oh,” Minhyuk moans, walking up to bump into his shoulder as he looks impishly at him, “I _love_ when you talk dirty.”

Jooheon is going to die and the cause is going to be Minhyuk giving him a heart attack. “Careful,” he warns, narrowing his eyes and keeping his line of sight straight ahead as the line steadily moves forward, “I might actually start dirty talking and you won’t be able to take it.”

“I can give as good as I can take, trust me,” Minhyuk purrs and Jooheon chokes on his own spit. “How long do you think it’ll take to get in?” he asks, nonchalantly checking the time on his expensive silver watch. 

Jooheon tries to cough as quietly as he can and ignores the fact he can tell that Minhyuk seems to be basking in his overreactions. “I dunno, probably like ten minutes. The line is moving pretty quick so I doubt it’ll take long.”

Minhyuk merely hums at him, grabbing out his phone to grip it with both hands, looking down as he taps on the screen with his thumbs. Their shoulders are touching as they stand next to each other and neither of them makes a move to break the mild contact, even as they continue to step forward to make their way further up the line. Jooheon tries to not think too much into it, but he ends up doing it anyway.

Would it _really_ be so difficult to just tell the blond man how he felt? Even if Minhyuk rejects him, saying he doesn’t feel the same, he knows that Minhyuk couldn’t blame him for his feelings—the way they banter back and forth constantly and all the little touches they share when they’re together…How _couldn’t_ someone catch feelings?

His thoughts are cut short when they’re the next in line. The burly bouncer looks down at Jooheon, one arm crossed against a huge chest and the other extended, expecting his ID. He reaches as quickly as he can to fish the plastic card out of his wallet along with a $20 bill for the entrance fee (it’s money he shouldn’t be spending but you had to live once and a while, right?) and hands it over. Once his card is reviewed and his fee is accepted, a neon green bracelet is slapped onto his wrist and he’s motioned to enter the club.

He hangs back by the door to wait for Minhyuk, shoving his ID back into his old wallet as he sees a band get placed on the other man’s narrow wrist. Jooheon blinks at him when Minhyuk approaches him right in front of the large metal door of the building.

“What?” Minhyuk asks, walking past him to grab the handle to start pulling it open.

“Didn’t he card you?” he asks him, brow furrowed. He knows that this club has an ID requirement no matter how old you look and he’s positive the bouncer just stared at the blond before giving his bracelet.

“Hm?” Minhyuk hums, looking over to him and shrugging his shoulders. “No, he didn’t. Must have forgot. I have a pretty nice face to look at—I think it gets distracting sometimes.” He’s grinning at him and Jooheon can’t help but laugh.

“Oh, what the beautiful people have to go through,” Jooheon sighs dramatically. He can easily believe that the bouncer had been distracted; Minhyuk is gorgeous to the point that he’s sure it transcends any gender preference someone could have.

“I know you know that turmoil too well,” Minhyuk coos back, grabbing Jooheon’s sleeve so they can enter the club. It’s set up like a massive warehouse, most of the area taken up by a huge dance floor with flashing colored lights and music so loud it vibrates his chest.

“What do you mean by ‘I know it too well’?” Jooheon shouts, voice instantly overtaken by the music, but Minhyuk seems to have no trouble hearing it as he leans over with a smile to say into Jooheon’s ear:

“Because you’re beautiful.”

He instantly flushes, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water and Minhyuk laughs at him. “Come on, let’s get a drink!” the blond speaks in his ear again and pulls Jooheon along as they make their way through the crowded club. The place is packed so Jooheon is pulled by Minhyuk’s hand a step behind which he is thankful for. His face feels like it’s on fire and no amount of will power seems to get the color to go down.

They get over to the colorful bar, a large group of people huddles around every spare spot but the two of them manage to squeeze into a space near the middle. “What do you want?” Minhyuk calls loud enough for Jooheon to hear, grabbing out his wallet from his back pocket.

“Shots,” shouts Jooheon, suddenly wanting to get drunk as fast as possible. A scantily clad bartender comes over to them and he hears Minhyuk order his usual gin and tonic. When the bartender looks to Jooheon, he glances over to his counterpart asking: “Are you buying?” when Minhyuk nods, he looks to the bartends again and says, “Three silver bullets!”

As the woman starts mixing their drinks with impressive speed, Minhyuk quirks an eyebrow leaning over to ask, “Aren’t those scotch and gin? Can you handle that?”

He ignores how the voice makes his body erupt in goosebumps while he leans into his personal space. “Go big or go home, right?” Minhyuk laughs at that, shaking his head but says nothing further.

The drinks are set onto the counter in front of them moments later, Minhyuk paying for the them with a fifty and tells the bartender to keep the change. Jooheon melts a little—he’s a sucker for someone who knows how to leave a good tip…

…or more like he’s just a sucker for Minhyuk.

He’s quick with taking the first shot, sucking it down in one gulp and coughs right after as the liquid burns his throat. He shakes his head a little, hopping in place a couple of times before grabbing the second into his hand. He exhales, knowing that drinking hard liquor this quickly is an incredibly bad idea, but works past it as he drinks the small glass. It went down much easier than the first and is pleased when he doesn’t hack up a lung this time.

He waits no longer than two minutes before he picks up the last shot, mentally preparing himself to finish it just as quickly as the others but is stopped. Minhyuk, who had been standing silently at his side, stops his hand halfway, leans over to wrap his lips around the mouth of the glass and pulls it from his grip, knocking his head back to let the liquid slide down his throat. As Jooheon watches the man’s Adam’s apple bob, he thinks that it’s one of the hottest things he’s ever seen.

Minhyuk grabs the glass from his mouth, plopping it back to counter. “You’re _not_ having three of those,” he says, taking another swig of his own drink before grabbing Jooheon’s hand into his cool one. “Let’s go dance.” Jooheon nods dumbly, Minhyuk walking them away from the bar as he’s led onto the dance floor like an obedient puppy.

He stops only when Minhyuk does, placing them somewhere near the middle of the floor as bodies bump and sway to the music. The song that’s playing isn’t something Jooheon recognizes but the bass is heavy and the beat is okay, so he begins dancing to it like the group of people around him.

His head quickly begins to swim from the alcohol—he knows it is—but as he dances along, he can’t help but appreciate the way that Minhyuk can move his body. The blond is tall, not much taller than Jooheon but he has at least an inch on him, and he’s lanky, but he can tell there are probably some lean muscles hiding underneath his sheer shirt and leather pants. It’s impossible not to appreciate the way he sways or turns perfectly to the music.

They start about a foot and a half apart from each other, but as the dance floor steadily begins to fill up with more people and the songs pass, they’re moving in closer like magnets. As the fourth song starts, the two of them are practically mashed together, barely a breath of space between them as Minhyuk takes a firm grip onto Jooheon’s hips and Jooheon wraps his arms around Minhyuk’s shoulders while they continue to move in tandem.

The closeness makes his heartbeat quicken, trying to recall the last time he’s been this close to someone—_wanted_ to be this close to someone and he comes up blank. But their bodies seem to fit so well together that Jooheon wants to stay close for as long as he can, preferably forever if he has his way. He thinks Minhyuk is feeling the same way as he continues to get tugged closer by his set of large hands.

When DJ Snake’s ‘Let Me Love You’ starts to pump from the DJ booth, they have switched their positions, Jooheon’s back pressed to Minhyuk’s chest, the blond’s hands holding onto his waist as Jooheon intentionally begins rubbing his ass against his crotch along to the melody. He doesn’t miss how the blond exhales against the back of his neck, the cool air making Jooheon shiver while he rocks back, his movements becoming more and more blatantly sexual.

Halfway through Minhyuk spins him around to face him, Jooheon nearly stumbling with how swift it is as his hips are pulled flush against the other’s and Minhyuk’s eyes look to his. He gasps from the surprise of being spun, at the intense way Minhyuk’s eyes roam around and the fact that they’re _so_ close. They’re noses are nearly touching and all it would take is for Jooheon to lean in and—

_Fuck it_.

Jooheon licks his lips and kisses Minhyuk, kisses him with his entire being. Their lips are pressed together and Minhyuk parts his in what he expects is surprise but Jooheon doesn’t miss how the man’s hands slide down to grip roughly at his ass, pulling him close with force.

He _moans_—he can’t help it. He’s fantasized about this for longer than he’s willing to admit and Minhyuk is _kissing him back_. Minhyuk’s mouth feels cool, just like the rest of him but it’s everything he’s ever wanted. When their tongues finally slide against each other, he tilts his head to deepen the kiss as much as he possibly can, wanting to taste every single space of the blond’s mouth.

They’re no longer dancing. They’re standing stagnant in the middle of a club making out, but Jooheon doesn’t fucking care. He wraps his arms around Minhyuk’s shoulders again and laces his fingers into the short hair at the nape of his neck—he thinks he’s imagined this scenario intensely for so long it feels familiar to him.

He separates against his will to gasp out a breath, hand still in Minhyuk’s hair and Minhyuk with his hands cupping his ass through his skinny jeans. He feels that his lips are sitting swollen from their kiss and he has no clue how much time has passed but he does know one thing that he is absolutely sure of.

He needs _more_.

“Come on,” Jooheon urges, pulling away and grabbing Minhyuk’s hand in his own as he pulls them off the dance floor. He’s secretly happy that he’s tipsy enough that he’s not embarrassed about the fact he’s walking through a public place with a raging hard on—not that anyone else would be sober enough to notice, anyway.

Minhyuk says nothing as he’s dragged to the back to the club or when they enter the men’s bathroom. Jooheon’s heart is thumping in his ears as he pulls them into an unoccupied stall as swiftly as he can. Immediately after he locks the door behind them, he’s grabbed by his hips again and his back is shoved against one of the side walls. He gasps in shock, Minhyuk’s deep brown eyes staring into his before he covers his mouth with his own. 

He groans quietly, kissing back hungrily as he’s pressed roughly against the stall. Minhyuk is surprisingly strong, overpowering Jooheon without much effort and it turns him on an embarrassing amount. He’s always been submissive by nature and having someone take control and guide him, especially sexually, sort of gets him going. Now is no different; his cock is throbbing already and he can clearly feel the outline of Minhyuk’s own erection pressing against his thigh.

“What do you want,” asks Minhyuk, voice deeper than usual, licking down his jaw and settling down on his neck where he sucks hard enough it makes Jooheon release a shaky breath. It feels so fucking good—he has the passing thought that he hopes he’s left with a bruise.

The muffled music from the club can still be heard inside of the bathroom, but Minhyuk speaks over it. “Jooheon,” calls Minhyuk, his voice vibrating off his neck. He feels the man suck roughly again before dragging his lips upwards against his skin before he feels them grazing at his ear. “What do you want me to do to you?” He nips at his earlobe. “Hm?”

Jooheon is practically shaking in anticipation, his legs quivering when Minhyuk raises his head to look at him. He swallows thickly, face flushed and head swimming as he looks at the living representation of a Greek God in front of him. He wants him so fucking bad.

He licks his lips, gripping at the waistband of Minhyuk’s leather pants and grinds his dick against him, letting all his inhibitions fly straight out the window. “Wreck me,” he whispers.

He watches Minhyuk’s lips part, gaze flickering all around Jooheon’s face before he breaks into a smirk and a soft chuckle. “You _really_ are going to be the end of me, aren’t you?”

Jooheon feels confused by the statement, unsure what it is that the blond means, but before his brain can process it he has Minhyuk’s cool mouth on his again, his tongue in his mouth and he can’t think about anything else.

He grips his hands in the sheer material of Minhyuk’s shirt, pulling him as close as he possibly can as his mouth is devoured. He feels when Minhyuk’s hand slides down his chest, down his belly to he stop at the waistband of his jeans, sliding a finger underneath and Minhyuk’s skin feels cold against his own.

“Is this okay?” Minhyuk pulls away from Jooheon’s lips to ask.

“_God_ yes, please just touch me,” he groans.

The husky voice laughs a little. “_That_ I can do,” he speaks softly, easily popping the button loose and slipping down the zipper. Minhyuk slides his palm intentionally over Jooheon’s clothed erection, rubbing over it slowly before moving back up to work past the elastic of his underwear where he_ finally_ pulls out Jooheon’s dick to take it in his hand and Jooheon feels as if he’s transcended.

Minhyuk pumps him slowly, Jooheon’s head falling back to thump quietly against the wall, closing his eyes at the feeling. Minhyuk moves back up to focus on the tip where he rubs his thumb into the slit to spread the wetness that is collecting there all the while Jooheon keeps exhaling shaky breaths, trying not to be too loud but it’s proving to get more and more difficult.

“You’re so pretty,” whispers Minhyuk, lips pressed at his ear as he licks over the shell. “Look at how good you are. Do you like that I’m touching you?”

“_Yes_,” Jooheon moans, heart quaking at the praise and compliment and he feels like he’s on cloud nine. Minhyuk starts to pick up the pace, gripping just hard and quick enough he can feel the precum start to dribble out from his tip. He moves to look back at Minhyuk who is watching his expressions with his eyes narrowed and lips parted—his face gorgeously intense. It makes him feel so incredibly wanted, like Minhyuk is looking at the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, and it rocks his entire core.

“I wanna touch you too,” Jooheon manages to say, taking his shaky hand to reach out to play with the silver button on Minhyuk’s leather pants. He bites his lip as Minhyuk isn’t slowing down the pace as he pumps him and it makes his coordination nearly nonexistent. “Can I?”

“I’d fucking love if you touched me,” Minhyuk groans as Jooheon _swears_ he could see him twitching underneath the leather.

He tries to move quickly, undoing the button and clumsily pulling down the zipper. He swoons when he sees that Minhyuk isn’t wearing underwear and his mouth waters while he grabs the blond’s dick by the root to free it. Minhyuk is _big_. Not disturbingly so but Jooheon is built average in every sense of the word and Minhyuk is so clearly _not _average it catches him by surprise—his tipsy mind loves it and Jooheon wants to put him in his mouth. _Immediately_.

“Can I blow you?” he asks, sounding more like he’s begging though he can’t seem to care.

Minhyuk chuckles softly. “Next time,” he replies quietly, and smiles at Jooheon’s pout. Minhyuk presses their cocks against each other, taking Jooheon’s hand to wrap around them before placing his own larger hand over Jooheon’s. “I don’t want to stop touching you.”

He grips Jooheon’s hand and starts moving them up and down and the sensation makes him shake. He’s had his fair share of hand jobs in the past, some good and some not so good, but he can confidently say this is one of the most intense feeling he’s ever experienced. Minhyuk’s mouth is back on his neck, sucking at the junction between his neck and shoulder as he keeps up the pace and _thank god_. Jooheon is such a mess at this point he wouldn’t know what to do if the pretty man wasn’t guiding him—he’s just blindly thrusting into the grip, unable to contain himself.

Jooheon is panting hard, especially when Minhyuk moves their hands to rub over the transition near the head, legs shivering as he presses his forehead into the elder’s shoulder to try and ground himself, biting his lips in an attempt to hide his moans. He’s failing miserably.

Minhyuk’s pace quickens further, clearly trying to chase his own release as he exhales deeply against the skin of his neck and when the man mutters out a quiet call of his name, Jooheon comes completely undone, releasing all over their hands as he collapses back against the stall.

He pants heavily, trying to catch his breath while the blond continues to move while Jooheon whines at the oversensitivity he feels each time the hand and Minhyuk’s dick rub against his own. He’s finally given reprieve once Minhyuk comes, his body giving a little shake at the intensity and a final groan, they’re bodies still glued together. He parts only for a moment to hastily clean the two of them up before slumping back against him.

They remain quiet for a few minutes, the only sound in the small compartment coming from Jooheon as he tries to steady his breathing, neck craned up to look at the dirty ceiling of the bathroom as he attempts to gather himself. He notices offhandedly that Minhyuk is not breathing harshly at all—he’s clearly in better shape than he is.

Minhyuk’s head is nuzzled into the crook of Jooheon’s neck and he feels as the other man says his name again, peppering the skin with light, open mouth kisses.

“Yeah?” he asks quietly, closing his eyes and canting his neck to the side to allow Minhyuk more access. His neck is feeling a little numb, probably from Minhyuk’s earlier assault on the area but the touches still feel really nice and he loves the affection.

“Mm,” he hears the pretty man hum, pulling at the skin with his teeth before letting it go. He can feel as Minhyuk flattens his tongue, licking a long strip down his neck before sucking again.

Jooheon sighs, content, enjoying the feeling while he thinks that if Minhyuk continues what he’s doing, he’s going to get hard again. Several seconds pass before he’s caught off guard by something incredibly sharp scraping into the skin of his neck—the feeling makes him jerk his neck as he exclaims a surprised: “Ow!”

Something snaps within Minhyuk and the other flings himself away from Jooheon so fast he doesn’t even fully register that it’s happened. But Minhyuk is staring at him on the opposite wall, eyes sitting as wide as Jooheon’s ever seen them, a hand covering his mouth. Minhyuk is looking at him with an expression that he can only register as complete fear and he doesn’t understand why.

“Woah are you okay?” asks Jooheon, starting to take a step closer but stops once he sees that Minhyuk presses his body further in the wall—seeing it hurts. “What’s wrong?”

“I—,” Minhyuk starts, but doesn’t finish. His mouth is still covered by his hand as his gaze darts everywhere but Jooheon—he looks absolutely terrified and Jooheon is so lost as to what could have scared him.

“Did I do something?” he asks, heart pounding fast as he tries to will Minhyuk to look at him.

The blond shakes his head, quickly reaching down to tuck himself back in his pants before moving to the door. “No, sorry, I just need to go.”

“Wait, why?” Jooheon panics as he rushes to cover himself with his underwear—he doesn’t understand what’s happening so suddenly and now he’s the one getting scared.

“I just do—I’m sorry, _seriously_ sorry, okay?” Minhyuk speaks fast, unlatching the door and flinging it open just as Jooheon tries to reach out to grab him but it’s too late.

He stares in shock, hand still extended as he watches the stall door ricochet against the wall with a smack before swinging back against its resting place. Footsteps rush out the bathroom and he’s left completely alone.

What the _fuck_ just happened?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who is continuing to read this! I hope you're enjoying it even though this chapter was really long and sort of angsty. Sorry if there are a lot of typos, I beta read these myself and rereading over 8000 words is hard and I sometimes miss stuff!
> 
> All feedback, comments and kudos are always welcome and greatly appreciated!


	4. July to September

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helpful Definitions:
> 
> Vitae: vampire blood
> 
> Celerity: superhuman speed
> 
> Chapter warning: Mild Gore

** _July 6th_ **

Minhyuk’s mind is a mess. He tries to remember the last time he’s felt this lost, this devastated and the only time he can think that could compare is when he was first embraced. He recalls at that time feeling confused, angry at himself and at world at large. This is _exactly_ how he feels in this very moment.

He had always spent nearly all his time trying to act against his urges, supernatural or otherwise and he’s been successful for years—he’s taken _pride_ in that fact. He has never felt the urge to feed off a human as he’s always kept his blood supply high so that the urge would never exist or if it did it was an easy fight to win over.

But the fact of the matter is that he _nearly_ bit Jooheon. Right into his jugular vein and this absolutely terrifies him.

The night had been wonderful—he was with Jooheon which always made for a perfect evening (at least in his eyes, anyway). It was amazing to watch Jooheon let go, enjoy himself to the fullest and Minhyuk had been drunk on it.

He never expected the night would end with the two of them held up in a dirty bathroom stall, Jooheon panting against him as they both got off. He hadn’t expect to be so taken by the orange-haired man, so intoxicated by the smell of the sweet blood rushing through his veins that he would completely lose himself and give way for his instincts to take over.

He didn’t end up biting Jooheon, but if the younger man hadn’t said something to throw him out of the trance Minhyuk had been in, he’s sure he would have and that’s not something he could let happen again. _Ever_.

He ran so fast from the club that the journey home was nothing but a blur, the look on Jooheon’s face still so fresh in his mind it was painful. He looked confused and so utterly hurt. It ends up being further proof that Minhyuk should have never forged a relationship of any kind with Jooheon to begin with—all he does is hurt.

It’s been over two weeks since they’ve spoke. Two weeks since they’ve seen one another or since Minhyuk had visited him at The Last Round. He misses him every day, with every fiber of his being but he can’t put Jooheon in danger, not without knowing if he was capable of trying to bite Jooheon again—it’s a risk he can’t take.

Minhyuk has not spoken to him, but Jooheon has tried to reach out to him consistently via text and Minhyuk leaves every one of his messages on read.

**[Jooheon 06/22 1:43am]** Where did you go??

**[Jooheon 06/22 2:36am]** Minhyuk if you get this please just tell me you got home safe okay? I’m worried

**[Jooheon 06/22 6:30am]** I can’t sleep. Are you safe?? Please respond when you get this

**[Jooheon 06/22 7:16am]** If I did anything to make you upset I’m sorry…I’m so fucking confused

**[Jooheon 6/22 7:17am]** Please talk to me when youre ready

**[Jooheon 06/22 7:17am]** I’ll wait

And the messages kept coming.

**[Jooheon 06/25 4:21pm]** Will you be at the bar tonight?

**[Jooheon 06/26 1:19am]** Guess not

**[Jooheon 06/26 3:39am]** Hope youre okay

And coming.

**[Jooheon 06/28 6:01pm]** Will you please just talk to me

**[Jooheon 06/28 6:57pm]** I won’t know what I did if you don’t tell me. Just say ANYTHING. I don’t care what but just something

**[Jooheon 06/28 12:23pm]** You have your read receipts on I know you’re seeing this

**[Jooheon 06/28 12:36pm]** Are you really going to leave it like this? Don’t I deserve an explanation of why you’re not talking to me?

**[Jooheon 06/28 12:38pm]** Don’t do this to me I can’t fucking take it

And coming.

**[Jooheon 07/01 4:44am]** I miss you

**[Jooheon 07/01 4:49am]** Though I doubt you even care

**[Jooheon 07/03 9:27pm]** Asshole

Every message he received hurt more than the last, but it was for the best—it had to be. Minhyuk’s heart is crushed thinking that Jooheon probably hates him right now and he doesn’t know if he can ever truly get over that, but that is his cross to bear.

It’s at least better than Jooheon knowing he’s a monster.

☼

** _August 8th _ **

“Do you really have _nothing_ better to do?”

Jooheon scowls at the jab, lifting his head long enough from the bar counter to glare at Youngjae before he slumps back down again. “Can you not give me shit right now?” he whines, pressing his cheek against the cool wood as he stares at the entrance to the bar—willing for a certain blond man to come through, though he knows better at this point. “I’m depressed, okay? Cut me some slack.”

“Who would I be if I _didn’t_ give you shit? You’d probably think that I was sick or something,” says Youngjae with a loud laugh. The bar is empty as it happens to be past 3 in the morning and Jooheon has been sitting there for hours. “Why are you depressed this time?” Youngjae asks, poking repeatedly at the top of Jooheon’s head with his finger—Jooheon’s too exhausted to even bat him away.

Jooheon grumbles, shifting so he’s now resting on his forehead as he speaks into the wood. “He still hasn’t texted me.”

“Oh,” Youngjae sighs, stepping away. “You mean your imaginary boyfriend?”

He sits up with a jolt to glare at the younger man. “He’s _not_ imaginary!” _Or my boyfriend_, he thinks bitterly. A boyfriend would _want_ to see him.

“Yeah?” asks Youngjae, raising his eyebrows as he wiggles his nose. “Then _why_ have I literally never seen him? You say he comes in here all the time, but I’ve never even met him.”

Jooheon slaps his hand loudly on the bar top. “You’ve totally seen him—you just can’t remember because you have the memory of an Alzheimer’s patient!”

“…_Dude_.”

Jooheon groans in exasperation leaning his head back to stare at the ceiling. “It was a joke. I’m just trying to say that just because you _can’t_ remember someone, doesn’t mean they’re imaginary. I’m not so desperate that I need to make someone up.”

“Hm, do you have any pictures of him?”

Jooheon blinks looking back down. “No, he says he doesn’t like pictures.” Youngjae mouths the word ‘imaginary’ at him with his massive mouth and Jooheon is ready to throw the melted ice in his glass at him. Instead he slams his head back on the counter. “I fucking hate my life.”

“Come on, it’s not that bad.” Youngjae says, voice soft and seeming to try and console—he isn’t very good at it, but Jooheon at least appreciates the sympathy. He places a hand on Jooheon’s shoulder and shakes him lightly. “You’ll find someone else, don’t worry.”

But he doesn’t _want_ anyone else and he’s destroyed by that thought. He was able to downplay his attachment to the blond man to a degree because they saw each other all the time. Now that he isn’t seeing or talking to him _at all_, it’s so blatantly obvious how much he likes him or how used he was to having the smiling face constantly around. A huge part of his recent happiness, which he feels like his life is often devoid of, came from Minhyuk.

And now he’s left in the cold—he has no idea what caused Minhyuk to freak out and ditch him in the bathroom at the club after they, literally, _jerked each other off_. He looked around the club for at least an hour after Minhyuk had left in hopes of spotting him, but the older man had clearly been long gone at that point. He ended the night crying silently on the bus ride back to his apartment.

He feels so incredibly hurt—he never thought that Minhyuk would be the type of person to ghost someone, let alone himself. He’s always came off to Jooheon as being incredibly genuine and caring, but now the man won’t even give him the curtesy to tell him what was wrong or reply to any of his texts. Had Jooheon been used? He’s not sure, but the lack of explanation was wrecking him as his mind attempted to fill in the blanks for him.

Jooheon sighs shakily through his nose, sitting up and digging his phone out of his pocket to set it onto the counter. He unlocks it and opens his text log with Minhyuk, all of his messages since the night at the club showing as being read but none of them replied to.

He knows it’s probably useless, but he composes a message anyway.

**[Jooheon 3:33am]** You know whats funny? I’d basically do anything for you to just text me hello. What does that say about me?

He hits send and sits, watching the cracked screen of his phone. Eventually it updates to show that the message is read at 3:40am, but no reply comes his way.

☼

** _August 16th_ **

It shouldn’t surprise anyone that Kindred are not really affected by temperature. Sure, in extreme cold Minhyuk’s joints and body don’t move as smoothly as it should and being engulfed by fire would make him combust much like a firework (not that he can _test_ this theory himself, but he believes the rumors without needing proof and stays as far away from fire as he can), but outside of that his body temperature always remains and feels generally ambient.

However, he _does_ thoroughly love taking bubble baths. The water is nearly scorching when he heats up his tub and in the end it merely makes his skin tingle when he plunges inside, but he likes the luxury of it. Plus, the water jets in his tub feel great against his back and he can soak for hours without his skin becoming even remotely waterlogged.

He isn’t keeping track of time as he soaks, looking at the marble tiling of the ceiling of his bathroom. Normally a bath would leave him with a sense of calmness, but the turmoil that his mind has been in for the last month and a half won’t dissipate no matter how hard he tries.

Jooheon has probably sent him over three hundred messages—he keeps them all saved in his phone. Over the past week or so, they’ve turned from begging Minhyuk to talk to him into just general things about his day, like what Jooheon is doing or what he’s thinking about, which is frequently Minhyuk. The messages make Minhyuk smile as much as they make him want to tear his own heart out to put him out of his misery.

He still hasn’t replied to a single text and he has no intention to. Time is experienced differently for humans as they have a finite amount of it and Minhyuk blatantly hopes that Jooheon will eventually run out of steam and give up on him, but he is as persistent as he is genuine. It’s _killing_ Minhyuk mentally but he’s too much of a coward to reply, even a lie of an explanation. He knows if he texts back, it will open up a wormhole that he would be sucked into with no return, falling right back into the habits he practiced before when he was with Jooheon that landed him in this situation to begin with.

Minhyuk releases a sigh—he’s been doing that a lot lately—as he turns off the jets in the large tub only to submerge completely into the depths of the water, eyes closed as his hearing gets muffled by the water surrounding him. He contemplates staying there forever—he doesn’t need to breathe, so he could_ technically _do it. It’s not like anyone would miss him, anyway.

He shouldn’t be depressed—he did this to himself. As much as other members of his clan might disagree, Kindred should not have relationships with Kine, it just didn’t work. The only mortals Minhyuk had any association with, prior to Jooheon, were those whose minds he wiped or the few ghouls he knows, but they’re not completely human to begin with.

Ghouls were a strange phenomenon, at least in Minhyuk’s eyes. A human who, in exchange for drinking his or her master’s blood, would assist the Kindred they are tied to. This could be anything from allowing the vampire to feed off them to doing tasks that their master needs done. The blood the human drinks puts their body in a type of stasis where as long as they drink it at least once a month, they will not age, along with yielding some water-downed version of vampiric abilities which can include increased strength and fast healing, among others.

To a mortal coming into this dark lifestyle, it sounds perfect. Performing tasks or being fed off of in exchange for eternal youth. The problem is that once they’ve drank the blood of their master three times, they become completely tied to that Kindred no matter what and often become addicted to vitae to the point of obsession if they don’t receive it. Minhyuk doesn’t think it would be worth it.

Regardless, ghouls are supernatural in their own right and completely aware of what goes bump in the night. A normal mortal has no place amongst Kindred society. Even if Minhyuk continued to keep in contact with Jooheon, the orange haired man would continue to age while Minhyuk would stay looking as he did the night he died. And even if Jooheon somehow wasn’t bothered or there was _some_ way to get truly integrated into Minhyuk’s strange existence, what was he going to do? Sit and watch as Jooheon slowly would grow old and waste away as Minhyuk continues to live on, potentially, forever?

His dark thoughts are interrupted by his phone vibrating loudly on the marbled counter of his vanity. Begrudgingly, he raises himself from the water and out of the tub, feet flush against his fluffy black bathmat. He grabs a towel to dry his hair with while he walks over to the vanity to grab his phone.

**[Jooheon 12:59am]** You know what sucks the most about all this? It’s the fact that even though I’m pissed at you for ignoring me all you would have to do is just tell me you’re sorry and I’d be fine with it. EVEN if you didn’t want to talk or see me again. But you won’t

**[Jooheon 1:00am] **I won’t stop texting you until you do

**[Jooheon 1:01am]** I care too fucking much to let this go

When he reads the last text it crushes him. No matter what Minhyuk seems to do, he’s still hurting Jooheon and it doesn’t appear that Jooheon will even truly let him go. What is he supposed to do?

Minhyuk chews on his bottom lip, setting the phone back down onto the counter and looks at himself in the large mirror that covers the entire wall. The reflection of his naked body is blurred, as it always is, looking like a foggy film is placed over him but everything else in the mirror is clear as day. He stares into his own eyes and even though they’re blurry, he himself can see the sadness and desperation in them. _This has to stop_, he thinks, but the thought itself makes him want to shatter the mirror into a thousand tiny pieces.

The next day he changes his number.

☼

** _September 22nd_ **

Jooheon’s life is becoming more of a mess as the days pass. Having his wages garnished over the last few months has been _really_ hurting him financially and he still hasn’t been able to land an additional job. The sad thing about this is he’s getting to the point that he just doesn’t fucking care anymore.

His tips have been suffering at the bar, too. He’s been struggling to put on the happy and flirty front he normally wears while he’s at work, but at this point he simply comes off as distant, sad and sometimes angry. He’s lucky to get _any_ tips with the direction he’s going but he’s completely unable to get himself out of this rut he’s been in.

It’s been particularly bad the last month and he knows what the trigger was. Somehow texting Minhyuk, even though the blond never replied, helped him stay sane. He would watch how the read receipts would pop underneath his text bubble and it comforted him in a strange way—even though he’d give anything, _anything_ to have the other respond, at least he knew he was okay enough to at least read them.

Then there were a few days where he saw that the read receipts wouldn’t pop up and he panicked. Was Minhyuk hurt? Or did he block him? He caved and actually _called_ Minhyuk’s phone and was absolutely crushed when he heard the robotic recording stating that the phone number he dialed was no longer in service. He ended up getting so angry he chucked his phone across the room and completely shattered it beyond repair. Youngjae was nice enough to give him his old iPhone 5s, which he was infinitely grateful for on account he couldn’t afford a new one—that seemed to be his only stroke of good luck he has had lately.

It’s past one in the morning and Jooheon is at The Last Round, completely obliterated. He isn’t working, but he’s sitting at the bar stool that Minhyuk always used to sit in when he’d come to visit, wallowing in his own self pity as Youngjae tries to work and coddle Jooheon.

“My life fuckin’ _sucks_, Jae,” he slurs, face smooshed onto the bar and his hand loosely holding an empty highball glass.

“_No_, it doesn’t,” says Youngjae, sounding exasperated. Jooheon has the presence of mind to realize he’s talking like a broken record, but he can’t help it. He looks blurredly up at the blue-haired boy who is currently mixing a cocktail for someone. “I keep telling you that it’s just a rut, it’ll get better eventually—everything always does.”

“Wish I could be that optimistic,” his tongue trips on the last word but he gets the sentence out none the less. Youngjae doesn’t give him a reply as Jooheon watches him pour the bright pink contents of the cocktail shaker he’s holding into a martini glass. After he slides it over to the person that ordered it, Jooheon sits up to tap his empty glass onto the counter. “Gimme another.”

Youngjae rolls his eyes as he walks to stand in front of him. “The only thing I’m getting you is water. I should have cut you off after three of these,” he mutters at the end, taking Jooheon’s glass and dumping it out in the sink after he throws away the wedge of lime that was sitting near the bottom. “Since when have you been drinking gin and tonics, anyway? You hate gin.”

Jooheon slumps back onto the counter, completely put out. “Minhyuk drank gin and tonics.”

The annoyed groan Youngjae unleashes makes Jooheon squint at him in confusion. “Jesus Christ, Jooheon!” he shouts, slapping his hands onto the counter and Jooheon jumps in turn. “You _have_ to let the guy go. Do you just expect to stop your whole life over some douche that won’t talk to you anymore? How the hell is that supposed to help anything? You didn’t even date!”

He glares across the counter. “He’s not a douche,” he defends on reflex, though he knows Minhyuk doesn’t deserve it.

He watches Youngjae roll his eyes again and the gesture pisses Jooheon off even more. “Really? I dunno, ghosting someone seems like a douche move to me, but what do I know. You’re acting like someone who just got divorced, dude. It’s getting ridiculous—how long are you going to keep this up?” The younger man released a sigh, looking Jooheon straight in the eyes. “I love you, man. Seriously, I do, but if I’m being honest with you, this is getting pathetic.”

The last word bites harder than he expected. He leans back on the stool, eyes narrowing dangerously. “You think I _want_ to feel like this? Is that what you fucking think? ‘Cause it’s not like I’m having fucking _fun_.”

Jooheon’s tone seems to catch the other by surprise as he watches Youngjae’s expression switch to something akin to regret as he shakes his head quickly. “No, I don’t. Sorry, Jooheon—that came out wrong. It’s just—.”

“Naw, man, I get it. Don’t worry,” he spits, standing up and swaying, catching himself on the counter before he can topple. “I won’t bother you then.”

“Joo, wait! At least sober up before you leave!” Youngjae calls as Jooheon stumbles to the door.

“I’m fine,” he says back and leaves the crowded bar, slamming the door behind him. A couple of guys give him a strange look as they walk past him to go inside but he only glares at them in retaliation.

He takes a deep breath, inhaling the night air as he tries to clear his head, leaning against the brick of the building. He blinks at the ground near his feet as he watches it move while he’s standing still. He doesn’t want to admit it, but Youngjae was right—he should have probably drank a couple glasses of water before he left, but it was too late now. He walks slowly, hand sliding against the wall as he moves towards the alley nearby. The last thing he needs is to get booked for public intoxication—he’ll sit by the back door until he sobers up.

He manages to get back there, clumsily sitting down onto the small stoop that leads up to the back entrance of The Last Round (he hopes Youngjae doesn’t come to take out the trash anytime soon). He leans back, head resting against the cold metal of the rusty door to look up at the cloudy sky.

It’s a shame, really. You almost never see the stars at night in LA—there’s way too much pollution in the air for them to be seen, especially deep in the city. He tries to recall the last time he saw the night sky in its natural, smog less state and he can’t remember when. Maybe he should try and take a trip up to the mountains sometime—he’d be able to see the stars there or watch the sunrise. However, the idea of doing this alone makes him feel bleak. Too bad him and Minhyuk never did anything like that—it would have been an awesome date idea (even if they never dated in the first place).

At some point he dozes off, resting against the door. When he wakes, he has an awful kink in his neck, but at least he feels a little bit more sober. He fishes out his phone from his pocket to try and figure out what time it is, but his battery has run dead. He looks up again, seeing that the sky is still dark and figures he didn’t sleep for too terribly long, which is good; sleeping in an alley in downtown LA is not exactly the safest thing to do.

He manages to catch the bus just as it’s about to leave and is relieved when he has _just_ enough change on hand to pay for it. He falls asleep once he’s safely in a seat towards the back and when he wakes again just before his stop, he thinks Youngjae may have been right—maybe he is pathetic to fall asleep in an alley _and_ a public bus after a night of drinking.

He exits the bus and walks the block down from the bus stop to head towards the pawn shop. As he passes it and heads to the alleyway that leads to the entrance his apartment, he notices a couple of men loitering around the rusty dumpsters a little way from the door. Their appearance doesn’t surprise Jooheon much—his apartment isn’t far away from Skid Row and it isn’t uncommon to run across some shady looking characters. He does notice they seem particularly rough around the edges so he makes a point to keep his head down while he walks quickly to reach the door.

He’s nearly there when he hears it.

“Hey, man! What’s the hurry?”

Jooheon grimaces, still keeping his head down as the two men approach, he tries to make it to the door but as he goes to pull it open, a grungy looking hand stops him by closing it back shut. He finally looks up at one of the men—he’s unhealthily skinny, skin sallow and he sees a tattoo reading ‘666’ on his neck next to the logo for Monster Energy. When he smiles at Jooheon he’s missing several teeth and just looks dangerous. His heart rate picks up as the man starts to talk again.

“Come on, you can hang out for a little while,” the man says as he’s joined by his friend who by the looks of him seems to be the muscle of the two.

“I’d really rather not,” mumbles Jooheon, making to turn around but is turned back by the muscular man. “Come on, dude. I’ve had a really rough night,” he sighs. _This is going to end really bad, isn’t it?_

“We all have it rough, it’s LA,” says the skinny guy. “Just hand us the money you got and we’ll leave you alone. Easy, right?”

“I don’t have any money.”

“Bullshit.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, man, do I _look_ like I have money to you?” snaps Jooheon, glaring and gritting his teeth as he looks into the man’s yellowed eyes. “If I fucking had money I wouldn’t be living _here_ of all places, jackass.”

There’s a deathly quiet pause. “Grab ‘im,” the man orders and his friend instantly grabs Jooheon’s arm.

“Fuck off!” Jooheon yells as he rips his arm out of the man’s grip only to be grabbed again and thrown against the brick wall, his head smashing hard enough he feels as his brain smacks against his skull. His vision swims while he tries to right himself and he feels as his shoulders are pressed roughly against the grainy brick, a hand trying to fish around his pants. He can’t see, but he thrusts his knee up to make contact with what he guesses is one of the men’s groins and shoves them away, hearing a loud groan with a curse.

He tries to make a break for it, running in the opposite direction of the alley, but he’s dizzy and all he manages is to make it about ten feet before he trips and falls to the ground, landing hard face first into the concrete.

“Dumb mother fucker,” someone shouts behind him before he hears rushed foot steps make their way over as he desperately claws at the ground to crawl away. When his legs are grabbed at the ankles Jooheon let’s out a yell before the hands start dragging him backwards, his bare arms scraping against the ground. When he starts kicking his legs, struggling to break free, he’s let go for only a second, but the man with tattoos ends up pouncing on his back, shoving his head so hard into the ground he feels the small rocks cut into his scalp.

Jooheon tosses his body around, managing to spin himself onto his back while the man is still crouched over him and flings a punch into the man’s jaw with a crack. It makes perfect contact but instead of stunning the man, Jooheon watches as the eyes above him widen in absolute rage.

The first punch to Jooheon’s stomach takes him completely by surprise and the second pushes all the air out his lungs as he shouts in pain. A flash of metal shines in the corner of his eye while a foot comes up to kick Jooheon in the side of the head at his temple. Not a moment later he feels something pierce him around his ribs and the feeling makes him gasp out.

“Stop,” Jooheon croaks before his shoulder is stepped on and he feels the sharpness again and again after that and at some point he stops counting how many times he feels it.

His body is numb when he stops fighting—his strength is gone. The last thing he remembers after the men take his wallet and phone and leave him to die in that dirty alleyway is looking up at the foggy night sky, thinking it’d be nice to see the stars. 

☼

Minhyuk has always thought of himself as a relatively rational individual. He’s always tried, regardless of his current state of affliction, to make moral and balanced decisions even if sometimes he’s forced to do the opposite. He tries desperately to be a good person, a good ‘vampire’, if there was such a thing, and the fact that he at least makes a conscious effort to do so helps him move forward with his unlife.

But, Minhyuk is a man obsessed.

Obsession isn’t a new thing he’s experienced—his love for art and creating it could definitely be categorized as an obsession as most people don’t spend ten straight hours painting without moving away from a canvas. What _is_ new is the fact that during his entire time being on this Earth, mortal or Kindred, he has never found himself obsessed over an individual, which is where he finds his current state of mind and he’s at a loss as to how to handle it.

He had thought changing his number would have helped not only Jooheon move on, but himself as well. He hoped no longer receiving the near constant text messages and enabling himself to read them would allow the younger man to become nothing more than a memory to him and he could move back to the way he lived before.

Oh. How incredibly wrong he was.

This small form of interaction with Jooheon, although completely one sided, was somehow keeping him grounded. When the messages stopped coming, Minhyuk suddenly didn’t know what to do with himself as he realized he learned to crave the messages he received every day.

Not knowing what Jooheon is doing is _killing_ him. It continues to consume all his thoughts to the point he he can barely focus on anything else. He tried coping the best he could for the first two weeks, but ultimately, he broke and began doing something he’d never thought he would do. He started following Jooheon in early September.

The fact that he started watching the man from a distance makes him feel awful—like a lowly, psychotic stalker. But he can’t _help _it. He doesn’t know how to function anymore without Jooheon being in his life in some way, so he resorts to this.

Jooheon never sees him and Minhyuk is glad for it. He’s used to hiding in the shadows or blending in to the crowd which makes following someone without detection nearly second nature to him, but watching Jooheon _hurts_.

Even though he isn’t able to see him up close, Jooheon always looks so sad and he never smiles. It crushes Minhyuk to know he is most likely the reason for Jooheon’s unhappiness. When he saw him last, walking to the bus stop to head for his shift at The Last Round, he could tell that the orange-haired man had been crying by seeing his swollen eyes and every fiber of his being wanted nothing more than to run up and embrace him—tell him he was sorry and beg for forgiveness. But, ultimately Minhyuk stays and watches from a safe distance, knowing that the both of them are equally miserable and in the end, he knows it’s completely his fault that they feel this way.

It’s Sunday and Minhyuk feels anxious. He hadn’t been able to watch Jooheon that night because he’d been ordered by Jinyoung to get a written confession out of some poor guy who’d wronged one of Jinyoung’s business partners. The confession was easy enough to get, the man was weak willed and entering his mind and getting the information he needed was a walk in the park—at least for him, anyway. But in the end it still took him most of the evening.

He has the man’s life practically written away in a college ruled notebook and obediently he takes the elevator up in the ivory tower to the Prince’s office to deliver it. When the doors open with a quiet _ding_ he exits and walks down the long hallway to head to the door at the end, his feet silent on the expensive imported marble.

While he approaches the massive (and honestly pretentious) door he’s sees the usual face he encounters standing in front of it. The man is shorter but much better built than Minhyuk, with a handsome face and styled light brown hair—it’s the Sheriff of the Camarilla and the Prince’s glorified bodyguard.

“Jackson,” greets Minhyuk without any friendliness behind it but the Sheriff is not deterred.

“‘Evening, Minhyuk,” says Jackson, a grin on his face. Physically they appear around the same age as they had both been embraced around the same point in their life, but he was turned several decades before Minhyuk. “Jinyoung’s waiting for you.”

“He always is,” he mutters, stepping back for Jackson to open the door for him with a flourish before he walks inside the large penthouse office.

Jinyoung looks up from his place behind his oak desk, dressed in his usual dark designer suit. The room is only lit up by a fireplace on the north wall and a table lamp on the desk.

“Ah, Minhyuk,” Jinyoung says as he approaches, extending his hand almost immediately. “I hope you were successful?”

“Always am, aren’t I?” Minhyuk snorts, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice. Jinyoung simply raises an eyebrow at him as he hands over the notebook.

“I suppose you’re not wrong,” amends the black-haired man, dropping the notebook onto his desk as he looks down to flip the cover open. He watches as the Prince’s eyes roam quickly over the messy hand-written confession, a smile forming on his face the more he reads. “Perfect. This is perfect—exactly what I needed. You wiped his memory after this, yes?”

“Obviously,” he scoffs without thinking.

Jinyoung’s eyes instantly narrow as they snap up in Minhyuk’s direction. “Don’t forget who you are talking to Minhyuk—I’d watch your tone if I were you. I don’t appreciate your rudeness and disrespect, is that understood?”

His shoulders slump a little. “I’m sorry. It’s been a rough few months,” he manages. It’s an apology he doesn’t mean and he only says it as it makes it easier to deal with Jinyoung—the man always demands respects from anyone under him (and in the eyes of Kindred Society, that’s everyone).

The Prince laughs short. “I can tell, you look like shit,” he says and Minhyuk has to _literally_ bite his tongue to not say anything back. “Anyway, you’re done here.” He says, closing the notebook again before placing it safely into a drawer behind his desk, waving dismissively at Minhyuk as he does. “Go. I’ll call once I need you again.”

Minhyuk turns on his heals and leaves without further remark. _You always do_.

A few hours pass once he’s finished getting the information to Jinyoung and by the time he gets into a cab to head near Jooheon’s apartment, it’s nearly four in the morning. He has no idea if Jooheon would be home as he doesn’t work (Minhyuk knows his schedule by heart), but Minhyuk’s been observing him spending more and more of his free time drinking at the bar, but the apartment is closer so he makes it his first stop.

After he pays the cab driver and exits the car, he ducks down a nearby alley to walk the few blocks he needs to reach his destination. There are a few homeless people he passes as he walks, but anyone who makes eye contact with him has their mind immediately erased, even though Minhyuk truly doubts they’d remember him anyway.

His mind is relatively blank as he moves closer, knowing if he thinks about what he’s doing a wave of guilt will wash over him. He decides that he’ll just get a quick glance of Jooheon, even if it’s just through his bedroom window, and then hopefully feel satiated enough to head home afterwards.

When he’s about a block away from the pawn shop, something seems…_off_. A sense of dread he isn’t expecting filling out his chest in droves. He frowns in confusion, trying to figure out as to why this feeling would overtake him out of nowhere when he smells it.

Blood.

Without thinking, Minhyuk sprints at full speed—to any human that would have seen him, it would appear that he disappeared into thin air and a second later he’s standing in front of a large blood stain in the alley that leads to the entrance to the apartments. His eyes are wide in horror as they dart around and see the blood tapers off into a thick red trail leading to the door.

He flings it open, leaping up the stairs only to find it leads right to Jooheon’s apartment door which is sitting ajar. His mind is racing when he pushes the door open only to find a limp body with tangerine hair lying face down on the faded wood, unmoving. There’s blood everywhere. There’s _so much blood_.

Minhyuk collapses.

“No, no, no, _no, no_,” he cries out, voice cracking as he crawls over to the crumpled body of Jooheon. His hands are shaking, his head swimming by the scent of blood that is filling his nostrils and he fights every instinct that wants to take over his mind at the smell of it.

He turns Jooheon over onto his back, only to see that his hair is caked with drying blood near his hairline, the right side of his face bruised and swollen and Minhyuk feels like he’s been shattered into a thousand tiny pieces because _he can’t hear his heartbeat_.

Minhyuk begins to sob, his body shaking with it as he repeats _no!_ over and over again, unable to formulate anything else as his entire world crashes around him in an instant. Jooheon can’t die. _He can’t_.

He desperately rips Jooheon’s shirt open with his nails, revealing a red drenched torso with several deep wounds as he presses his ear over his heart and closes his eyes, listening for anything—_anything_.

“Please, dear God, _please_,” he whispers, pressing his ear as close as he can. He stays there waiting for seconds that feel like years and then he hears it—it’s faint and barely there, but he absolutely hears a telltale _thump_.

Minhyuk springs up to his knees, trying to think fast. There’s no way he can take Jooheon to the hospital—he’d die before the ambulance could even get there. There’s only one thing that he can think of that would even have the slightest chance of saving him and Jooheon’s so close to being gone it might not even work, but he needs to _try_.

He bites sharply into his own tongue, nearly splitting it in half with his teeth to make his mouth fill with the taste of his own blood. He crouches over, tilting Jooheon’s beaten head back to open his mouth before covering it with his own.

His blood flows down Jooheon’s throat for several seconds and when the wound closes on his tongue he bites it open again. He doesn’t know how long or how much he’s given him but he only stops when he feels that any more would make him dizzy.

When he parts from the younger man, his pouty, swollen lips are tinged with the black of vitae. He crouches back down, ear to his heart again and Minhyuk prays. Prays for it to work, at least long enough for him to get Jooheon to his apartment where he can try and get him some help.

Minutes pass by until he finally hears Jooheon’s heart rate slowly but surely start to increase and level out and he raises his head when he hears the younger man let out a quiet breath. He looks to Jooheon’s face—he’s still unconscious but he’s sure he can see some of the bruises beginning to lighten slightly, the wounds on his stomach are no longer bleeding and beginning to clot—showing that his blood is starting to heal him.

Minhyuk lets out a sob in utter relief, grasping Jooheon’s face gently in his hands as he tries not to feel overwhelmed—they’re not out of the woods yet. He needs to get Jooheon out of here and to some place safe where he can get additional medical attention.

“Okay, come on Jooheon,” he whispers, lifting the man up into his arms, holding him bridal style so Jooheon’s head is resting safely in his neck. “Hang on tight,” Minhyuk says, though he knows the man in his arms can’t hear him. “This is going to be fast.”

The way he moves is a blur. He breaks into the alley way and jumps against the walls between the two buildings to land on the roof of the pawn shop where he leaps swiftly across the adjacent roof tops. If he’s seen by anyone he’ll be in deep shit, but that’s something he’ll have to worry about later—as long as he moves fast enough he shouldn’t be picked up on any cameras.

Jooheon doesn’t stir the entire run nor when Minhyuk uses the back entrance of his own building to get into his basement loft, but he’s at least comforted by the fact he can openly hear the sound of Jooheon’s heart and it’s music to his ears.

He kicks open his door with a loud _bang!_, walking over to lay Jooheon gently down onto his velvet couch. He watches as the orange-haired man’s face falls to the side against the cushions and even though he can hear him breathing, Minhyuk still holds his finger under his nose to feel the air brush against his skin. He glances down at Jooheon chest which is still visible through his ripped shirt and he panics again. The man is not bleeding, but the wounds are not appearing to heal either.

He grabs his phone from his pocket—thankful he didn’t lose it on the way—and dials one of the few numbers in his contact list, ignoring the fact that his hands are stained with blood that isn’t his own.

“Come on,” he mutters, pacing back and forth in front of the couch, “Come _on_, fucking answer!”

The phone rings for an agonizing minute before the line clicks and he’s greeted with an annoyed: “What?”

“Kihyun!” he exclaims, nearly dropping his phone. “Jesus Christ, thank God you answered. I need your help—I have someone at my place. He’s hurt—seriously hurt. I gave him some of my blood but some of his wounds aren’t healing—.”

“Wait, _what_?”

“I’ll explain later. Just please, please, _please_ come over! I can’t take him to the hospital, you’re the only option I have. I’ll owe you big time, I’ll literally do _anything_, just—.”

His panicked ramblings are interrupted by an annoyed tsk before the voice says, “_Fine_. Five minutes.” And the line disconnects.

It’s the longest five minutes of Minhyuk’s existence. He stands by the door, tapping his foot with his arms hugging himself at his waist as he keeps walking back to Jooheon to check that he’s still stable. He trusts Kihyun, who happens to not only be a ghoul, but as well as a doctor, to get here in time but waiting is literal torture.

When he hears the start of the first knock, he flings the door open to reveal the short form of Kihyun—his features sitting fox like under a cut of ear length brown hair, wearing a white shirt that’s meant to be worn under a suit, tailored tan slacks and an annoyed crinkle in his chin.

He lowers his fist that was still hanging in the air as he adjusts his large, leather medical bag that’s held in his other hand. “Where is he?” the brunette asks.

“On the couch,” he answers quickly, getting out of the way and closing the door once Kihyun is safely inside.

Without another word the short man walks over to Jooheon and gives him a once over before setting his bag onto the coffee table and propping it open. His small hands reach inside, pulling out a stethoscope. He places the earpieces into his ears, taking the diaphragm to place it over Jooheon’s heart. He listens for a moment before moving it down to listen to his lungs.

“Who is this?” Kihyun asks, pulling the earpieces out a moment later and then draping the stethoscope around his neck.

Minhyuk hesitates, watching as Kihyun grabs Jooheon’s wrist. “His name is Jooheon.”

“Hm,” hums Kihyun, placing two fingers over Jooheon’s pulse and looking at the watch on his other hand. “And how do you know him?”

He hesitates again. “Well—.”

“Shush, I’m counting,” Kihyun interrupts him and Minhyuk glares. He’s an obnoxious little thing. “Don’t call me obnoxious,” says Kihyun after a minute, dropping Jooheon’s wrist right after.

“Then don’t listen to my thoughts,” snaps Minhyuk.

“Then don’t think so loud that the voices can hear you,” Kihyun snaps back. “Remember I’m helping you here. How do you know him?”

He can’t help but let out a sigh. “Sorry, I’m thankful you’re here, I’m just on edge. He’s…” he pauses, struggling to find an appropriate word. “He’s a friend.”

“A friend,” Kihyun repeats as Minhyuk is unable to keep his thoughts from rushing through his head—he knows the voices the brunette hears will pick up on them and give Kihyun enough insight as if Minhyuk has told him himself. It’s incredibly annoying. “Interesting,” is all Kihyun comes back with as he takes out a pen light from the pocket on his shirt. He lifts each of Jooheon’s eyelids to shine the light into them respectively before letting them fall shut again.

Minhyuk is chewing harshly on his bottom lip as his eyes follow back to Kihyun as he turns to his medical bag to pull out some supplies and setting them on coffee table. “Well, with the amount of blood you probably had to give your _friend here_, you’re lucky you didn’t turn him,” Kihyun comments, taking out a large bottle of saline solution as well as rubbing alcohol, gauze, a small biohazard bag and a plastic kit filled with an assortment of tools. “Then you’d both be screwed.”

As if Minhyuk isn’t aware of that. “Is—is he going to be okay?” he asks him quietly.

Kihyun’s raises his eyes to appraise him before flicking back down to his bag as he grabs out a set of latex gloves, snapping them onto his hands. “We’ll see, but my guess is yes. Can you stop hovering over me? You’re blocking the light.”

“Sorry,” mutters Minhyuk, moving to hover instead behind the velvet couch, looking quickly over Jooheon’s face, before looking back to the brunette. He watches as small hands grab out a few squares of cotton then dousing them in the saline solution to carefully clean the drying blood from around Jooheon’s wounds. “Why aren’t his cuts healing?”

“They are,” replies Kihyun tossing a now soiled square into the biohazard bag before soaking another one. “He looks like he was stabbed—the wounds are pretty deep, so they won’t look like they’re healing to you, but they are. It’s just slow.”

“But, I gave him my blood—isn’t that supposed to make him heal faster?”

Kihyun sighs, wiping down Jooheon’s soft stomach one more time before tossing away the cotton. “It _is_. He’s still human, Minhyuk. He’s not going to heal like you do unless you embrace him. The vitae is saving him right now, but he’ll still take some time to heal.” He reaches across the coffee table to grab the plastic container of tools and popping it open. “I’ll stitch up his wounds—that should help the healing process.” He glances back at Minhyuk who is now craning over the couch to watch what he’s doing. “Do you make it a habit of _befriending_ humans?”

“No, I don’t,” Minhyuk replies with an indignant huff. “He’s…he’s an exception.”

Kihyun raises an eyebrow at him, but doesn’t make a further comment on Minhyuk’s answer. “You should probably drink, Min. You used a lot of your blood reserves tonight, it’s dangerous for you to let it get to low.”

_Like I don’t already know that!_ “I’m fine,” he mumbles, looking into Jooheon’s face. The man’s face is relaxed and with his chest gentling rising and falling, it looks like he settled down for a nap and that notion comforts him a little.

“Minhyuk,” Kihyun scolds, looking at him sharply.

“God, _fine_!” he groans, walking begrudgingly away from the couch to get to his fridge. “Quit acting like you’re my Mom.”

“Someone has to be,” he hears from behind him and Minhyuk rolls his eyes.

Over the next hour all of the wounds on Jooheon’s stomach have been expertly stitched closed and disinfected. Kihyun predicts they should be fully healed in about four days and Minhyuk breathes a sigh of relief. Jooheon is lucky—no bones were broken and the wound on his head has already healed over, along with a large amount of the bruising on his face. He’s finally starting to look like the Jooheon he’s grown so attached to.

“I’d give him a couple more drops of vitae later tonight, just to be safe,” says Kihyun, cleaning up his supplies and putting it back into his leather bag neatly. “He’ll probably be unconscious for the next couple of days—his body has to do a lot of healing. The blood should keep away any infection, but I’d feel better if you at least cleaned his wounds tomorrow to be on the safe side.”

“Okay, I can do that.” Minhyuk nods, Kihyun straightening himself up. He walks over and places a hand onto the small shoulder when the brunette looks at him. “Thank you, Ki. Seriously. I owe you one.”

The short man smiles small. “You’re welcome. You can thank me by babysitting Changkyun the next time I need to leave for a night.”

Minhyuk grimaces. Changkyun is—_interesting_ to say the least. The way Minhyuk would explain him is as if the Mad Hatter from Alice in Wonderland was turned into a vampire—though it’s not Changkyun’s fault. His whole bloodline is that way. “Okay, deal,” he says eventually. Not like he had a choice, anyway.

“Good,” says Kihyun, grabbing his bag by the leather handles and walking with Minhyuk to the door. When Minhyuk opens it for him, the other man glances back to the form on the couch before returning his gaze to Minhyuk. “It’s not my business, but what are you planning on doing with him?”

He pauses, biting at his lip. “I…” he trails off but decides to reply honestly. “I don’t know. I really don’t, but I can’t leave him. I just can’t.”

Kihyun nods slowly, frowning a little as his eyes flicker around Minhyuk’s face. “You know, this kid has to be something special to you. You realize that by the time I got here it was already sunrise? If you would have gotten here any later, you would have fried. He must be pretty important for you to take a risk like that.”

“I honestly hadn’t even noticed,” he mutters quietly.

“Well, whatever you’re going to do, I’d figure it out fast,” sighs Kihyun, turning to the door. “This is a huge violation of Kindred law if you’re not careful.”

Minhyuk frowns deeply. “Trust me, I know.”

“Hm,” Kihyun hums, finally exiting. “Call me if you need anything.”

“I will. Thank you again,” he says, closing the door behind the brunette.

Minhyuk finally releases a shaky exhale, walking silently to the sleeping form of Jooheon. He crouches down, slipping one arm under Jooheon’s and the other under his knees, holding him tightly to his chest. He carefully carries him up the stairs to his bedroom where he settles Jooheon onto the bed.

He sets out to clean the other man first, getting rid of his stained clothes and washing over his face and body with a warm wash cloth. Once all the blood is gone, he dresses him in a pair of his green silk pajamas before tucking him under the covers.

Minhyuk jumps quickly into the shower to wash away the dried blood that had been on his hands and face as quickly as he can before exiting the bathroom. He hops into his own set of pajamas, choosing a black set for his own.

He finally settles down next to Jooheon, the feeling of how surreal the whole night has been finally washing over him like a tidal wave. Jooheon is here, safe and alive and sleeping next to him.

He scoots closer onto the bed, laying on top of the blankets to make sure his body doesn’t make Jooheon cold before he slips his hand into the other’s, interlacing their fingers. He doesn’t know what he’s going to say to Jooheon when he first wakes up, but at least he has some time to hopefully figure it out.

Minhyuk finally closes his eyes, feeling comforted by the warmth of the orange-haired man’s skin against his own.

It’s going to be a long couple of days. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! This was a really tough chapter for me to write, so I really hope it turned out okay. I know it was super angsty TT TT
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has left feedback, comments and kudos on this story. It’s so greatly appreciated and it means the world to me!!


	5. The Truth

Jooheon wakes to a ceiling he doesn’t recognize in a bed much too comfy to be his own. He blinks open his eyes slowly, trying to will the fog of sleep away as he attempts to sort through his thoughts. He raises his neck to glance around the dimly lit bedroom he finds himself in with some confusion as he tries to figure out how he got here as he’s positive he’s never been there before.

The bed he lays in is huge, covered with expensive looking bedding in different shades of blue and attached to a lavish oak bed frame. There’s a matching bedside table, housing a designer crystal encrusted lamp that lights the room next to an alarm clock that states it’s 12:30am. Outside of an armoire and a plush looking arm chair there’s nothing else in the room.

_Where the hell am I?_

He slowly raises himself up to sit, hissing with the effort. His joints crack as he shifts and his body feels like it hasn’t moved in days. When he fully sits up, he hisses at the burning sensation in his abdomen and suddenly, the images from the night in the alley flash back into his memories. He remembers the men, the blood he saw when he looked down at himself, desperately climbing up the stairs to his apartment to try and get help, and then nothing.

His heart races as he lifts up the silk pajama top he’s wearing to look at his stomach and his eyes widen. His tummy is littered sporadically with five cuts, about and inch in length that are sealed shut with neat little stitches—they look like they’re weeks old.

He drops the shirt down and blinks blankly. How the hell is he alive and how long has he been asleep for?

He isn’t allowed to ponder for long as his attention is taken by the door off to his left opening up with a smack against the wall and Jooheon is left there with his mouth hanging open, looking at a lean frame, white blond hair and the beautiful face he hasn’t seen in over 3 months.

“Minhyuk?” He asks in utter disbelief, his voice cracking from disuse.

Minhyuk says nothing as he sweeps across the room, crawls onto the bed and envelops Jooheon in a hug. Thin, cool arms wrap around him, one slipping near his waist, the other moving to lace itself within Jooheon’s hair as his head is pressed softly into Minhyuk’s shoulder.

“Thank God,” Minhyuk’s husky voice whispers and the very sound of it sends shivers down Jooheon’s spine. It feels like it’s been so long since he’s heard it—it makes him want to cry out in relief, but he’s hit with an onslaught of multiple different emotions at once and all he ends up registering is that he’s overwhelmed. “Thank God you’re okay. I was so fucking _scared_.”

A million questions flood Jooheon’s mind, he has so many things he wants—_needs_ to ask, but he allows himself to be held. He can’t help it. He knows he should be mad at Minhyuk, hell he _is_ mad, but he missed him so God damned much and was convinced he’d never see him again that he can’t help but bask in the embrace. It feels so wonderfully familiar.

“Where am I?” He eventually asks, hands raising to grip lightly at the front of Minhyuk’s shirt.

“We’re at my place,” replies Minhyuk, who had begun stroking the back of his head. It felt comforting, but Jooheon relents and pulls away.

“How did I get here?” He queries, pushing Minhyuk away to arms length as he looks into the blond’s face. The expression he’s wearing is one that Jooheon can’t completely read. “What the hell happened to me?”

Minhyuk seems to struggle to find a response. “I…I brought you here after I found you in your apartment.”

Jooheon furrows his brow in confusion and frustration. “But _why_ were you at my apartment? And how am I even alive?” He watches Minhyuk as he opens and closes his mouth a few times, but ultimately doesn’t say anything. When the man remains silent, Jooheon shoves him away roughly, the anger that he has been feeling over the span of the last few months finally bubbling over and exploding. “Jesus Christ, Minhyuk, just fucking answer me! I’ve been trying to contact you for _months_—and then all of a sudden you fucking just show up out of nowhere, bringing me to your apartment after I nearly died in an alley from someone mugging me and you can’t even answer my questions?” He glares as Minhyuk stares at him wide eyed and Jooheon can’t help but think that the other man looks afraid.

“Jooheon—,” Minhyuk begins, but ultimately stops short at Jooheon’s expression.

“_Answer me_, Minhyuk,” grits Jooheon, fists clenching in the sheets that are pooled around his lap.

“Okay, okay I will,” urges Minhyuk, reaching out in what looks like an attempt to touch Jooheon, but ultimately thinks better of it and lets his hand fall to the bed. “It’s just—it’s just _really_ complicated to explain.”

Jooheon snorts without humor. “Try me. Just spit it out already.”

He watches as Minhyuk chews on his bottom lip, eyes darting around Jooheon’s face as he watches the other man try to formulate an answer. “I happened to be near the pawn shop a couple of nights ago. There was a huge blood trail that I followed leading to your apartment and when I found you there, you were barely breathing. I—did something to get you breathing again and brought you back here where my friend, whose a doctor, patched you up.”

He narrows his eyes. “I can tell there’s a lot you’re leaving out. What did you do? Did you take me to the hospital?”

Minhyuk shakes his head. “No. You would have died before I could get you there.”

“_What did you do_?” He speaks slowly, but then blinks when something Minhyuk had said finally registers. “Wait, a couple of nights ago?” He looks down, lifting up his shirt to look at the healing skin on his abdomen. “There’s no way. How the hell could I have healed that fast? Are you lying to me?”

“No! I promise I’m not lying!” Minhyuk raises his hands up in defense. Jooheon doesn’t think he’s seen the older man so frazzled and he’d be lying if it didn’t throw him off a bit. Minhyuk had always been cool, calm and collected in the past, but right now he seems to be really struggling. “It’s because of I what I did—I’m not…um, normal, I guess? I can do things that other people can’t and because of that I was able to save you.” he trails off at the end, moving to grip at his own hair in frustration. “Jesus Christ, this is hard to explain.”

Jooheon stares at him blankly, honestly more confused then before. “What do you mean that you’re not ‘normal’?” He asks slowly. “I don’t understand what you’re getting at.”

“I’ll try to explain it to you, but,” he pauses, his expression desperate as the beautiful face looks at him, “I just ask that you _try_ to keep an open mind. You deserve answers, Jooheon, I know you do, and I’ll give them but just hear me out until the end, okay? If you hate me after that’s fine, I just ask that you listen.”

Jooheon purses his lips, staring into Minhyuk’s eyes as his heart rate increases again. He eventually nods and he sees the other release a shaky exhale.

“Okay,” Minhyuk says softly, seeming more for his own sake then for Jooheon’s. He looks down at the bed sheets for a minute, before finally raising his gaze to look to Jooheon. “I’m—not really human. Well, not anymore, anyway. I’m…uh, a vampire.”

A beat of silence. Then another. Then Jooheon is getting up angrily from the bed. “Oh, _fuck_ off,” he yells, ripping the sheets off his legs and moving to stand to his feet. His legs feel like Jell-O on account they haven’t been used in days, but he works through it because he’s so. Fucking. _Pissed_. And he needs to get as far away from Minhyuk as possible.

“No, Jooheon, I’m serious!” Minhyuk begs, jumping up from the bed as Jooheon attempts to walk around it to get the door. The tall blond stops and puts his hands on Jooheon’s shoulders which he immediately shakes off.

“Jesus Christ, Minhyuk, do you think I’m an idiot or something?” He spits, face getting red. “I should have known that you wouldn’t take this seriously—you don’t take anything seriously! I’m sitting here trying to get a fucking _honest _answer out of you and you tell me _this_?!”

When Jooheon attempts to push past him, Minhyuk gently but firmly holds him in place by his shoulders as he begins to plead. “I know this sounds stupid and like a lie, but I promise it’s true!” His eyes look glossy with emotion as he continues. “Think about it, how else do you think you would have healed that fast? It’s not possible.”

Jooheon laughs without humor, trying to shrug off the other’s grip but it’s no use. “Oh, yeah, and my first fucking explanation for it is _clearly_ that the dude I’ve been seeing all year is a _vampire_! That’s garbage, Min, and you know it. I don’t know what you’re trying to play at—.”

“I’m not playing at anything, I swear!”

“—or you must think I’m high or something if you think I’m going to believe something like that!” He finishes, shaking his body to get free. “Just let me go!”

“But you said you’d listen—_please_, just listen for a sec,” Minhyuk sobs, and the sound makes Jooheon stop struggling. “Look, let me show you something,” the man urges, gently releasing one of his shoulders and his large hand slowly reaches down to grab Jooheon’s.

“What are you doing?” Jooheon asks warily, trying not to be affected by the fact he sees a tear slide down Minhyuk’s cheek but it cracks his exterior before he’s able to stop it.

“Look,” Minhyuk merely repeats as he takes Jooheon’s hand in his, raising it slowly to his thin neck. He should probably put up a fight, but Jooheon let’s the other place his fingers over the carotid artery on Minhyuk’s neck. Minhyuk presses Jooheon’s fingers down with his own and all he can do is stare as he looks into the other man’s eyes. “Do you feel a pulse?”

Jooheon blinks, opening his mouth before closing it as his fingers remained pressed against Minhyuk’s skin. He sinks his fingers in a little deeper and the blond lets him as he feels nothing thump underneath them. His brow furrows. “…no,” he answers quietly.

“What about here?” Minhyuk asks further, taking the hand down and releasing Jooheon’s other shoulder so he can place Jooheon’s fingers over a thin, pale wrist. Jooheon waits, expecting to feel something under his fingertips, but there’s nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Jooheon remains quiet as he stares, his eyes wide in confusion. “But, that doesn’t mean—.”

“Haven’t you ever wondered why I’m so cold all the time?” Minhyuk asks him.

“You said it was bad circulation,” he croaks.

Minhyuk shakes his head. “That was just an excuse. It would explain why my hands are cold, but not here,” he drags Jooheon’s hand back up to rest on the cool skin of his neck before slowly sliding it down to the dip in his silk shirt where his chest is exposed and places the hand over his heart. “Or here,” says Minhyuk softly. The skin under Jooheon’s fingers is cool like the rest of him and he can’t help but notice that his heart doesn’t beat either. 

“_Think_ about it, Jooheon,” whispers Minhyuk, hand still held to his heart as he takes a step forward.

And he does. He thinks about how he only ever saw Minhyuk deep at night, well after the sun had set. He thinks about how, occasionally, when Minhyuk was deep in thought it looked as if he stopped breathing for minutes at a time. How sometimes Minhyuk moved so unnaturally quiet when he wasn’t paying attention and would scare the shit out of Jooheon or how Minhyuk always seemed so strong considering he was built so thin. How he never saw Minhyuk _eat anything_. Ever.

Jooheon shakes his head, pulling his his hand out of Minhyuk’s grasp and the blond lets him. “You can’t just expect me to—I mean, there could be other reasons that you—,” he fumbles and stutters over his words, looking at Minhyuk like he grew a second head. “How am I supposed to _believe _something like this?” he finally gets out. He’s not even blinking as he stares at the blond; he just keeps looking at him, like the answer and conclusion will pop out of thin air.

“Trust me, I know how weird this is,” the other says, his large hands fidgeting with the hem of his silk shirt nervously. “I couldn’t wrap my head around it—not when I first figured out what happened to me, but it’s real.”

Jooheon purses his lips, thoughts flying through his head at the speed of light. After a moment, he scoffs before saying: “Prove it.”

Minhyuk blinks at him. “What?”

“_Prove it_,” he repeats back, crossing his arms over his chest, ignoring the fact that his hands are shaking a little. “If you want me to believe it, prove it.”

The blond bites the side of his bottom lip as his eyes dart around. “But, I did, didn’t I? I mean, you felt that I didn’t have a pulse and—.”

Minhyuk is silenced by the shake of Jooheon’s head. “Not good enough. I feel like there’s probably some weird medical condition out there I don’t know about that could explain that or why you’re so cold.” He feels ridiculous for even entertaining the idea that something out of an Anne Rice novel is speaking to him right now, but here he is. He walks further into the room, Minhyuk stepping back a few paces to give him space so they’re both now standing in front of the end of the large bed. “Do something else. You have to be able to do something that I can’t, right? Like turning into a bat or something.”

Minhyuk frowns. “But I can’t turn into a bat.”

He throws his hands up in the air in frustration. How the hell is this a conversation that he’s actually having with someone? “Then do something else, I don’t know! I’m not the one claiming to be a vampire here!”

Minhyuk licks over his lips as he thinks. “Okay, fine. I’ll do something. Just—just _try_ not to freak out, okay? I’m really not trying to scare you.”

“No promises,” Jooheon mutters, tone annoyed. He’s still waiting for Minhyuk to start laughing at him, telling him this is all some dumb joke, but the blond just runs a hand through his hair, releasing a sigh,

“That’s fair, I guess,” he says, hands falling to his sides. He takes another step back, looking Jooheon dead in the eyes and when Jooheon blinks, Minhyuk’s gone.

He blinks again, shaking his head, thinking his eyes are playing tricks on him. “What?” he says out loud to the now empty room. He swings his head around, seeing nothing else but the furniture before he spins around in a circle for good measure. Minhyuk is completely gone. Vanished. Not a single trace of him.

“What the hell?” he whispers, eyes wide and heart thumping in his ears.

There’s a light tap on his shoulder a second later that makes him yelp in surprise as he nearly trips to turn around fast enough and there Minhyuk is, standing a pace behind him his lips pursed in a thin line.

“Um, hi,” says Minhyuk after a few seconds of stunned silence from Jooheon’s side.

Jooheon whips his head around, looking where Minhyuk had been standing before only to turn back quickly to where the man stands now. “How did you do that?”

Minhyuk shrugs awkwardly, seeming to search Jooheon’s face for something. “It’s just something I can do. Most Kindred—uh, that’s our word for vampire—can move quickly, some are just quicker than others. I’m particularly fast, I’ve been told.”

The two of them stare at each other in silence, Jooheon trying to process what he just saw. He tries to rationalize it, thinking it could somehow have been a trick of the lighting, but Jooheon had literally looked at the entire room and Minhyuk was _not_ in it.

“So,” Minhyuk starts, shifting from foot to foot. The way he looks at Jooheon reminds him of a child that is trying to not get in trouble by his mother. “Do you believe me yet?”

Jooheon doesn’t know what to believe as he just stares at Minhyuk blankly. “I mean,” he starts, blinking rapidly at Minhyuk. “You…could have tricked me, right?” he speaks, but his voice isn’t at all convincing that this is what he truly thinks.

Minhyuk’s shoulders slump with a sigh, he looks completely put out as he shakes his head. “I didn’t trick you. God, I’ve literally _never_ had to prove this to anyone before—this is so much harder than I thought. Here, I can show you one more thing—I don’t think after you see this you could think it’s some sort of optical illusion or something. I grabbed it when you thought I vanished, just in case.”

Jooheon watches wearily as Minhyuk starts fishing around the pocket of his silk pajama bottoms (Jooheon realizes off handedly that he’s wearing a matching pair—his is just in green while the other’s is in black). He pulls out a pocketknife, flipping open a tiny but sharp looking blade that is shorter then the length of Jooheon’s pinky finger. He hesitates for a second, before holding out the blade to Jooheon in his open palm.

“Cut me,” Minhyuk requests quietly as Jooheon’s eyes turn into saucers.

“_What?_”

“I’d do it, but then you might think I was pretending,” the blond urges, stepping towards Jooheon as he stays rooted in place. He grabs Jooheon’s smaller hand and places the pocketknife into it. “Don’t worry, it’ll barely hurt me, I promise. I trust you, Jooheon, more than I could ever tell you—just give me a little cut on my palm, I think it’ll explain a lot to you. Please?”

The pocketknife feels as if it weighs a thousand pounds as it sits in his hand. Minhyuk extends his palm once again and looks at Jooheon, his eyes pleading. He grips his fingers around the rounded plastic at the end of the knife. He can’t believe he’s doing it, but he reaches out with his shaking hand to grab Minhyuk’s palm, slowly raising the pocketknife as he releases a quivering breath. Is he really going to do this? 

He places the small, sharp blade against the cool skin of Minhyuk’s palm and hesitates. He glances up to Minhyuk’s face, only to see the other man nod at him encouragingly. He bites on the inside of his cheek before he looks back down. “Okay,” he says, voice barely a whisper.

He cuts into Minhyuk’s skin and the man doesn’t even flinch. He doesn’t go very deep—just enough to break the first few layers of skin before he drops the knife to the ground in shock.

The blood that trickles from Minhyuk palm isn’t red. It’s _black_—like someone opened a bottle of black paint and dribbled it onto his palm. It also doesn’t pool like Jooheon’s blood would if he had done the same thing to himself; it looks thicker and collects in drops that don’t seem to move.

A moment later, Minhyuk takes his hand and brings it up to lick the black blood off his skin, and when the palm is shown to Jooheon again, the cut he made is completely gone. It didn’t even leave a scratch behind, like it was never there to begin with.

Jooheon takes a step back to fall down onto the bed, sitting at the edge as he looks at Minhyuk in confusion and, to be honest, a little bit of fear. “You’re telling the truth?” he asks in disbelief, voice shaking because he can’t help it.

Minhyuk’s eyes become glossy as his lips part, taking in Jooheon expression and wavering voice. He makes to move closer, but seems to second guess it and stops half way. “Please don’t be scared of me,” Minhyuk whispers, his voice so soft that Jooheon reads his lips more than he actually hears him. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to be scared. I—,” he stops, cut off by what could be a sob. Minhyuk’s face looks the same as it did when they were back at the bathroom at the club—terrified.

The look hurts Jooheon just as much as it did back then and he has to turn away from him for a second to collect himself. His mind can’t settle on a single thought, his heart is still racing and pounding against his rib cage. He stares at the adjacent wall for some time before, eventually, he turns back to the blond’s face, whose still staring at him like a man about to head to the gallows.

Jooheon sighs loudly through his nose, glancing over to the arm chair kitty-corner from the bed. “You,” he says finally, making Minhyuk startle. He points to the chair. “Sit.”

The lanky man immediately moves and plops down on the chair, watching Jooheon expectantly, doe eyes staring at him as he obediently sits and waits for him to continue.

Jooheon stands up from the bed, ignoring the pain he feels as the wounds on his abdomen stretch with the movement. He stands a few feet away from Minhyuk, arms crossed and looking down at him. “I’m going to ask you questions, and you’re going to answer _all_ of them. If I find out you’re lying, we’re finished. Got it?” Minhyuk nods his head quickly, his hair flopping up and down with force. It’d be cute under different circumstances. “What’s your real name?”

“Minhyuk Lee,” he answers immediately. Jooheon purses his lips at him. “I never lied about my name,” he adds after and Jooheon decides he believes him.

“What year were you born?” Minhyuk hesitates to answer. “Min?” he asks warningly.

Minhyuk grimaces. “1979.”

Jooheon does the math and blanches. “You’re _forty_?”

“Technically?” Minhyuk suspires, reaching up to scratch at his ear while he fidgets in his seat. “I don’t age, so I always look twenty-six because that’s when I was turned. I don’t _feel_ forty, if that means anything.”

Jooheon does the math again in his head and adds up that Minhyuk has been a vampire (oh _God_, did he actually admit that to himself?) for fourteen years. He’ll have to digest that later. “Fine. How long have you lived in LA?”

“I didn’t lie about that either,” sighs Minhyuk, slouching back into the chair. “I came here when I was nineteen from Seoul like I told you before. It’s just been…_longer_ since I’ve been nineteen then you thought.”

His next question is stupid, but he can’t help but ask it. “…Do you sparkle?”

Minhyuk laughs suddenly at the question and the sound of it is music to Jooheon’s ears; he can’t help the small smile that forms on his face and it breaks a bit of the tension in the room.

“_No_, I don’t sparkle,” Minhyuk speaks, still laughing quietly as a beautiful smile graces his face. Jooheon would be lying if he said he hadn’t missed it. “I wish I did though—at least that would mean I could go out during the day, just looking like a disco ball. If I tried going out in the sun, I’d burst into a ball of flames.”

_So that myth is true_, Jooheon thinks to himself and the thought exhausts him. He slinks back over to the bed sit back down on the corner, looking back to Minhyuk. He has two questions he needs to ask the other man and he settles for the one he feels like will hurt the least first. “How did you save me?”

The smile on Minhyuk’s face falters. “I had you drink some of my blood,” he replies and when Jooheon bobs his head back in confusion, he continues with, “It has healing properties—it’s the reason why I’m able to regenerate injuries quickly, but it has similar effects on humans,” his voice seems to waiver awkwardly at the last word, but he pushes through and Jooheon doesn’t comment on it. “That’s the reason why your wounds are almost completely healed, even though you were only hurt two days ago. I brought you here to heal—if you went to the hospital after the amount of blood I gave you, all your blood tests would come back weird and I couldn’t risk it,” he explains further before glancing down to look at the floor. “And I wanted to see you and make sure you were okay when you woke up.”

“That’s kind of gross,” blurts Jooheon, before quickly adding: “Uh, the blood drinking part, not the second part you just said.”

Minhyuk gives him a sad smile. “Sorry,” he says and looks back to the floor.

They sit in silence again as Jooheon attempts to sort out what he’s feeling. Gratitude that Minhyuk found him and saved him, happy to be able to see and speak to him again, as well as fear because the Minhyuk he thought he knew is obviously _so_ different then who he truly is. He’s also hurt—he’s _so_ fucking hurt. He looks at the man in front of him and he can tell there’s regret in his eyes, but Jooheon has to ask him. He knows he’ll never feel closure, no matter what happens, if he doesn’t.

“Why did you run away from me at the club?” He asks eventually, his hands gripping the edge of the bed in an attempt to keep his emotions in check. “Why did you start ignoring me? Do you have any idea how much that hurt me?”

Minhyuk bites hard at his lip as he looks up to Jooheon, his face full of regret. “I—I got scared.”

“Scared of _what_, though?” Jooheon urges, gaze not breaking with Minhyuk’s.

“When we—after we—,” Minhyuk tries, making vague hand motions that didn’t really make sense to Jooheon until realization dawns on him and he flushes a bit. “Well, you know. Anyway, I don’t know how to explain it—not completely. When we were leaning against the wall and I was…kissing your neck, I sort of lost myself and—.” He trails off for a moment before the fear enters his eyes again. “I almost bit you and it freaked me the fuck out. I never feed off of people, Jooheon, _never_. I hate doing it, so I don’t,” he explains in a rush. “And I almost never get urges like that—I’m normally so careful. The idea that I could have bitten you if you wouldn’t have said something to snap me out of it absolutely terrified me and I thought you’d be in danger around me if something—like _that_—happened again.

“You mean so much to me, Jooheon, I—,” he pauses to look up for a breath, his lip quivering just enough to be noticed before he collects himself and looks back down. “I don’t even know how to even tell you. But the thought of accidentally hurting you completely _wrecked_ me and I didn’t know what to do about it, so I thought that distancing myself was the best choice. I’m sorry, Jooheon. I’m _so fucking sorry_ for what I put you through.”

Jooheon swallows thickly, letting Minhyuk’s explanation sink in as best as he can. “If you would have bitten me,” he begins, holding back a shaky breath, “would I have become a vampire too?”

Minhyuk shakes his head. “No, _God_, no. If humans turned every time they were bitten there’d literally be _millions_ of Kindred running around. It takes a lot more effort to turn someone, trust me, and it’s super painful,” says Minhyuk, his mouth forming a frown as if he’s recalling something he’d much rather not. “I’d never think of turning anyone, let alone you into what I am. I wouldn’t wish this upon anyone.”

“So,” Jooheon speaks carefully, watching Minhyuk from the side, “you have to drink blood to survive?” Minhyuk nods. “Then if you don’t feed from people, how do you get it? From animals?”

“No, I wish I could live off animal blood—my palette is too sensitive to keep it down, so I buy blood packs from blood banks and hospitals.”

Jooheon nods minutely at the explanation and silence engulfs them again. So, Minhyuk ghosted him because he was scared of hurting him. That, under the circumstances, makes sense but… Jooheon sighs out loud. “I wish you would have just told me all this before.”

He watches the blond rake a hand through his hair. “It didn’t feel like an option. You’re not supposed to know Kindred even exist,” Minhyuk mutters, looking to the floor once again. “Plus, it’s not something you just bring up, like, ‘Hi, I’m Minhyuk. Oh, by the bye, I’m basically like something from _The Walking Dead_, but with a nicer coating—is that cool?’”

Jooheon narrows his eyes at the other man. “So, if—_all this_—wouldn’t have happened, you would have just never talked to me again? Just leave me thinking that I did something wrong to push you away after we literally fucked around?” Minhyuk opens his mouth as if to say something, but ultimately closes it, hanging his head and that’s all the answer that Jooheon needs as the anger starts to resurface. “I felt used, Min, fucking _used_. Do you realize that? And even besides that, there was still nothing more that I wanted than to just see your stupidly pretty face again and you just left me in the dark.” He bites the inside of his cheek to try and hold back his emotions, but he feels as his eyes begin to well up. “It felt like I’ve been standing all alone in that bathroom stall for months. Do you know how shitty that is?”

“I _do_, I do Jooheon,” the blond sobs, crouches over with his face buried in his hands in anguish. “I’ve been absolutely terrible, I know that—I never meant to make you miserable I just didn’t know what to _do_.” He shakes his head, fingers gripping into the white locks tightly. “I couldn’t even stop thinking about you—I don’t even know how to explain how much I fucking missed you and it was all my fault.” He lifts his head, eyes wet and seeing at how sad the blond looks physically hurt. “I want to make this right, I do. I don’t expect you to forgive me; I don’t even think I deserve it. Just know that I thought I was protecting you from the monster that I’ve been fighting for over a decade.” His head drops again into his hands as he tries to choke back another sob. “I’m sorry,” he says finally, falling silent.

Tears have been falling silently down Jooheon’s face, staining his cheeks. Maybe it was because he had felt so bitter, but he figured that Minhyuk hadn’t felt as miserable as Jooheon had while they were apart, but that was wasn’t the case. Minhyuk clearly had been fairing just as badly.

Jooheon sniffs, whipping his nose on the back of his hand. Rationally, he should be terrified by the man in front of him, right? But he’s not. And all he wants to do is comfort him. Maybe Jooheon is just stupid, but he doesn’t question anything further as he stands up from the bed, hiding a wince as he does, and quietly walks over to stand in front of the chair Minhyuk is still crouched over.

He watches as the blond slowly raises his head, his hair tussled messily from how he was gripping it before, his eyes sitting wide as they stare at Jooheon with so much fear and sadness. Jooheon slowly raises his hand to dab at the tears with the cuff of his sleeve—he doesn’t miss how Minhyuk blinks and leans into the touch, as if he had been waiting for it.

“You’re not a monster, Min,” Jooheon tells him quietly. “You’ve never been a monster and you’ll never be one.”

Minhyuk bites his lip, another tear sneaking past at Jooheon’s words that he catches with another swipe of silk. Minhyuk stands up, their faces only inches apart. “I’m sorry for what I put you through,” he apologizes again in a whisper, mouth so close he feels the cool air brush against his lips and the sensation makes him shiver.

“You’re…you’re forgiven,” he whispers back, eyes flickering around the blond’s face. It’s been so long since he’s seen him up close, it’s as if he’s trying to burn his image on the back of his eyelids so he can’t forget. “Just—just never do it again, okay? I fucking mean it, I can’t handle that shit again.”

“I promise,” Minhyuk nods as Jooheon steps closer. There’s only a breath between them now.

They look at each other, unwavering, before Jooheon gets fed up and lets out a laugh. “Jesus Christ, Minhyuk. Just kiss me already.”

Minhyuk smiles. “I’ve been dying to,” he says, lifting his large hands to place them onto either side of Jooheon’s face and leans in, capturing his lips with his own.

Jooheon let’s out a sigh in relief, tilting his head and raising his arms to wrap around Minhyuk’s shoulders. The kiss starts off as soft but Jooheon is the one who deepens it first, licking into Minhyuk’s mouth as soon as his lips part. He can’t help the whimper that he emits, pressing his body flush against the other’s so there’s no possibility of any space between them. Minhyuk moans, the sound eaten by Jooheon’s mouth as he feels his hands slide down to grip at Jooheon’s waist firmly.

They kiss like they’re starving. A clash of desperate teeth and tongues and Jooheon’s loving every minute of it. He grips onto Minhyuk, guiding them back until he feels the edge of the bed hit the backs of his knees. Jooheon falls to the mattress, pulling Minhyuk with him as their mouths continue to meld together, messy, wet and needy. He moves up the bed, the blond crawling after him, chasing after him until Jooheon’s head is amongst the pillows where he falls back into them and their lips finally part. Minhyuk, eyes intense, immediately straddles his hips, leaning forward to grab his chin as he captures Jooheon’s bottom lip between his teeth before licking back inside and it shakes Jooheon to his core.

He groans low in his throat, gripping onto Minhyuk’s silk shirt like he’s afraid that he’ll leave again and to some degree he is. He’s been craving a moment to be with the beautiful man again and he doesn’t want to let him go. He snakes his hands down to Minhyuk’s bottoms, attempting to slip his hands inside through the waistband but he groans in frustration when the other stops him in his tracks, pushing his hand gently away.

“Jooheon, wait,” murmurs Minhyuk, pulling back when Jooheon immediately tries kissing him again. “No, seriously, wait a second.”

“I’m tired of waiting,” he whines, reaching out to rub at Minhyuk’s erection that is already straining against the fabric. They’re both already so hard and he needs to do something about that.

“Jooheon!” scolds Minhyuk with a hiss while he grabs Jooheon’s hands so quickly he doesn’t see it happen—he only realizes when suddenly his wrists are pinned down by his sides by ridiculously strong hands. “Calm down for a second—we can’t do this right now.”

He’s panting, adrenalin rushing as his heart beats loudly in his ears. He tugs a little at his wrists but Minhyuk’s grip is so strong that his arms don’t budge. He groans in a annoyance, head collapsing against the pillows as he licks his lips to taste Minhyuk on his tongue. “But _why_? Can’t you just fuck me already?”

His statement makes Minhyuk shudder, clearly affected as he presses on. “I’m not going to fuck you while you’re still hurt,” says Minhyuk, his eyes clouded in lust but expression firm. “Trust me, I want this as much as you do but I won’t hurt you. Plus...if we want to stay together, we need to discuss a few things.”

Jooheon swallows thickly, trying to ignore how his dick twitches at being restrained. Minhyuk could do anything to him right now, he’s completely at his mercy and it’s making it hard to concentrate when he realizes it. “What…what kind of things?”

Minhyuk stares down at him, seemingly unaware of Jooheon’s internal struggles. “This isn’t as simple as just being with some random person. There are rules and I’m breaking a lot of them as it currently stands. We need to talk over some stuff so you can remain safe and be sure this is what you really want. Does that make sense?”

“Sort of,” he mutters, twisting his hips to try and relieve some of the pressure on his crotch but it isn’t working. Minhyuk’s lean frame is sitting perfectly on his dick and the pressure is murder. He flushes to his core. “Um, if you want to talk, you might want to let my arms go. I kind of have this thing for being dominated and I can’t concentrate while you keep holding me down like this.”

If Minhyuk was able, Jooheon is pretty sure the blond would be blushing right now. “Oh!” He exclaims, releasing Jooheon’s wrists instantly and pulling his hands up to grip at his own chest as if he doesn’t trust himself. “Sorry.”

Jooheon keeps his hands limp at his sides as his eyes roam across Minhyuk’s body. “And...maybe don’t straddle me either.”

Minhyuk clambers off him quickly to sit on his haunches next to him on the massive bed. “Sorry,” he repeats, looking embarrassed which is a new look that Jooheon hasn’t seen. His hard on is still clearly visible under the thin silk of his pajama bottoms, but the other man places his hands on his thighs as if it isn’t there.

Jooheon ignores his own tenting pants, slowly moving up to a sitting position. The wounds burn again against his skin and Jooheon realizes that Minhyuk was probably right to be thinking responsibly. He pulls his knees up and wraps his arms around them as he finally lets out a breath, willing his arousal away. “Okay, what do we need to do?” asks Jooheon after a moment.

The blond releases a sigh, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to collect himself. “First off, I suppose I have to ask you something.” Jooheon waits. “Do you want to be with me?”

Jooheon can’t help rolling his eyes as his cheeks heat up. “Is that even a question?” He mutters. “I wouldn’t be on this bed with you right now if I didn’t.”

Minhyuk breaks into a soft smile. “I was hoping so, but I needed to hear it.” The smile falters a moment later with another sigh. “There’s a couple of problems that we’ll need to try and fix. I’ll be honest, I’ve been breaking some pretty strict rules this entire year seeing you, but one saving grace was you didn’t,” he grimaces, “_know_ what I was. You knowing what I truly am is a huge violation of Kindred law—there aren’t any normal humans in Kindred society and the fact that you know now is dangerous.” 

Jooheon frowns. “Why is it dangerous?”

Minhyuk frowns back. “If you’re found out having the knowledge you have, the Camarilla would order to have your memory wiped or worse.”

“What the hell is the ‘Camarilla’?”

“I work for them—they’re, hm…I guess like the Vampiric government.”

Jooheon pulls a face. “You _have a government_?” Minhyuk just shrugs awkwardly. Mentally, he bookmarks a question on this for another time—he has a feeling in the end he’ll have an endless amount questions. Oh, well. “Wait, what do you mean I’d have to have my mind wiped?”

“Your memories would be removed,” answers Minhyuk, tone soft. “And they’d probably have me do it.”

He looks at the blond carefully. “You can erase memories?”

“Among other things. Unfortunately, I’m really good at it, too.” Minhyuk smiles sadly. “I’m sure they’d ask me to wipe all your memories of me—it’d be like I would have never existed to you.”

This idea is crushing. At this point, as tumultuous as things have turned out to be between them, he can’t imagine not having Minhyuk in his life, especially after just getting him back. Nearly all of his good memories from this year involved the blond man and the idea of those being taken away from him is heart wrenching.

“I don’t want any of that to happen,” Jooheon says firmly. “So, what do I need to do so that doesn’t happen?”

“Well,” Minhyuk starts, shifting in his spot, “you’d probably have to become my ghoul.”

“A _ghoul_?” He blanches. “Isn’t that something that eats _corpses_!?”

“Not that kind of ghoul!” Minhyuk shakes his head immediately at Jooheon’s disgust. “A ghoul for us is a mortal who drinks the blood of the vampire—it’d give you some supernatural properties. You would still be human in a sense, but not quite because you wouldn’t age anymore and you’d get some abilities. It’s sort of a partnership—I’ll go into more details later, but if you were my ghoul, no one would think twice about you being with me, at least. Honestly, it’s not ideal since I’d rather you stay as you are, but…” he trails off, biting his lip.

Jooheon furrows his eyebrows, confused. “But I had to drink your blood when you saved me, right?” He queries. “Doesn’t that mean I’d already be a ghoul?”

The beautiful man shakes his head again. “Vampire blood wears off eventually, normally in about a month. To be a full fledged ghoul, you’d have to drink my blood three times and I’d have to get you registered with the Camarilla, which wouldn’t be the easiest to explain, but doable.”

“But it isn’t just that—you’d have to leave your old life behind. You maybe have five or ten years before this, but the people you know would eventually realize you aren’t aging and that will cause problems. Ultimately, all relationships you have outside of my world would have to stop—for your safety and their’s.” Minhyuk’s large eyes shoot downcast as he shifts to sit cross legged, his fingers playing with the fabric of his pajama pants. “I realize that’s a lot to sacrifice for someone, so I don’t want you to give me your answer now. We should be fine keep things as they are for a little while, if we’re careful—I’ll have you talk to my friend whose a ghoul. He can explain it better and answer any questions you have and you can think on it. Does that sound okay?” He looks back up, their eyes meet and Minhyuk’s expression is hopeful.

The idea of this is startling and hard to completely comprehend, but Jooheon already knows the answer he’ll give. The life he was leading before this was going no where—he’s known this for ages. If sacrificing that is what he needs to do to be able to be with Minhyuk, the answer is simple for him. But he still needs to find out what he can before he tells the other, so he nods in response. The smile Minhyuk gives him is beautiful.

“Okay,” says the other man. He crawls over and Jooheon easily accepts the chaste kiss he’s given and the feeling gives him butterflies in his tummy. Minhyuk raises his hands to rest on either side of Jooheon’s face, cool thumbs lightly stroking over his cheekbones while he looks into his eyes, looking at Jooheon like he’s the most beautiful thing in the world. It makes Jooheon’s heart flutter. “I’m happy you’re okay, Jooheon.”

He smiles back, leaning forward to kiss Minhyuk again, because he can. “Me too.”

They pull apart and Minhyuk makes to move off the bed. “I’m sure you want to shower and get a change of clothes, right?”

“Yeah, that’d be nice, actually,” he admits, following the other off the bed, careful not to move to quickly as his body still aches.

Minhyuk points to the door across from them. “That’s the bathroom—you can take a shower or a bath. Feel free to dig through my clothes to find something to wear, I don’t care what you pick. I’ll be downstairs when you’re done, okay? Help yourself to anything you need.”

Jooheon nods, thinking about inviting the man to shower with him, but decides that should be saved for another time. Minhyuk gives him a smile, moving to exit the bedroom as Jooheon makes his way to the other door.

As he closes the door behind him to the large bathroom, he has a passing thought as exhaustion wants to take over him along with the distinct feeling of relief.

_What a day._

☼

Minhyuk walks down the stairs to make his way to the kitchen and waits until he hears the sound of the shower running to finally grab his phone. He scrolls through his contacts until he reaches Kihyun’s number and dials quickly. He taps his foot impatiently as it rings for several seconds before there is a click and a familiar sounding, “What?” greets him from the other side.

“Would it kill you to just say ‘hi’ like a normal person?” mumbles Minhyuk, rolling his eyes as he walks to his fridge, opening it up to retrieve a blood pack—he didn’t want Jooheon to have to watch him feed. The younger man has been exposed to enough for one day.

“Neither of us are normal, so that statement is irrelevant,” replies Kihyun, tone sounding annoyed, per usual. “Did he wake up?”

“He did—about an hour ago.”

“And? How is he doing?”

Minhyuk shifts to hold his phone between his shoulder and ear so he can stab a metal straw into the plastic pack. “He’s doing okay, sore it seems, but he’s moving around alright. All the bruising is gone and the wounds on his stomach have almost completely healed over. He’s showering right now.”

“Being sore is to be expected. He didn’t move for two days; I’d expect nothing less. That should pass in a few hours, at least.” There’s a hum on the other side before Kihyun asks, “And did you talk to him? Or did you avoid the issue like you normally do?”

Minhyuk glares at the air. It’s good that the brunette wasn’t in the room—his thoughts suddenly turned not very favorable. “I talked to him, thanks,” he says, tone sarcastic.

“No need to thank me.” Minhyuk glares again. “I’m gathering that you told him the truth—how did he take it?”

He drops the glare to think for a moment, taking a sip with the metal straw before he sighs. “_Okay_, I guess? I don’t know how this conversation could exactly go well, but he didn’t try to stab me with a stake or something. I guess that’s a success.”

Kihyun snorts. “Impressive if he had a stake to even stab you with—that’d be pretty funny.”

Okay, the glare is back. “You’re in a bit of a mood, aren’t you?” He snips.

“Mood is a bit of a strong word,” comes the dismissive reply. “Changkyun suddenly thought it’d be a good idea to paint the bathroom lime green while I was sleeping. I was cleaning it up when you called.”

This statement catches him by surprise and it takes all of Minhyuk’s willpower not to laugh. “Oh?” He asks, voice faltering as he bites his lip. He can’t help but ask: “And how’d that go?”

He can practically hear the deep frown in Kihyun’s voice. “Not great. He painted the mirror, the bathtub _and _carpet. It’s—.” Kihyun sighs deeply. Minhyuk does let out a laugh this time and the brunette instantly tells him to shut up. “_Anyway_, I’d like to examine Jooheon sometime tomorrow. His stitches aren’t dissolvable and will need to be removed. Would you have him come here at 11:30 tomorrow night?”

“I’ll tell him,” says Minhyuk. He hears the water turn off up in the loft and he quickly finishes off the blood pack. “Hey, so,” he begins, leaning against the counter. “I told Jooheon about ghouls.”

There’s a long pause. “And he wants to become yours?”

The pause bothers Minhyuk, but he doesn’t comment on it. “I don’t know if that’s something he wants, so I told him to think on it. When you see him tomorrow, will you talk to him about it? You have more insight on it than I ever will.”

“You think that’s the best choice?” asks Kihyun. “To become a ghoul?”

Minhyuk’s shoulders slump. He’s agonized over the idea the last two days while he waited for the younger man to wake up and to be honest, he doesn’t know _what_ the best choice is. “What other option do I have? There’s no way he can know about me without him integrating into Kindred society someway. Embracing him is out of the question, even if I had permission—this was the only thing I could think of. Regardless, it’s Jooheon’s decision if he wants to or not, so…” he purses his lips. 

There’s silence on both sides of the line and Minhyuk listens to the foot steps that shuffle above him. The sound is comforting. Eventually, Kihyun states: “I’ve heard your thoughts, you know.”

Minhyuk scoffs, kicking at the floor with his bare foot. “What else is new?”

“I know you love him,” is how Kihyun replies and Minhyuk freezes. “I know you would do anything for him—I’ve heard it, so you can’t hide it from me. But, if Jooheon chooses to remain fully mortal, will you let him?”

He shuffles from foot to foot, looking down at the tile of his kitchen floor. “I’d have to, wouldn’t I?”

“Yeah, but _can you_?” Minhyuk frowns at the question, but deep down he knows it’s fair. Kihyun, whether he wants it or not, has a deep understanding of Minhyuk. He probably knows him better than anyone else.

He sighs deeply through his nose, looking up at the ceiling. “I hope so.”

“Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, I’ve wrote parts of this chapter multiple times. I was trying really hard to make Jooheon’s reaction to Minhyuk’s explanation as realistic as possible and girl, it was HARD. I know this probably ended up being a bit long winded, but I was trying to keep it natural (I didn’t want Jooheon to just be like, “Oh, you’re a vampire? That’s chill.” Because that didn’t seem at all believable), so I hope it’s not terrible TT _ TT
> 
> Thank you to everyone that keeps following this story!! I’m so thankful that people are liking it x: And thank you to everyone leaving feedback, comments and Kudos!! It gives me life and motivation and is greatly appreciated!!!


	6. Ghoul

When Minhyuk wakes up, the first thing he normally sees is the boring white color of his bedroom ceiling. It’s something he had gotten used to, knowing that he was only waking up to start another day, feeling completely alone. However, when he wakes up this evening, he’s greeted not by the white ceiling, but by bright orange hair about an inch away from his nose, his arms wrapped around another body.

The feeling of waking up next to Jooheon makes him utterly elated and his face instantly breaks into a smile. The other man is laying with his back pressed to Minhyuk’s chest, the two of them covered by the thick comforter Minhyuk usually doesn’t use, the only sound in the room coming from Jooheon’s quiet snoring—he’s out like a light.

His smile broadens further as he indulges himself, snuggling Jooheon further into his arms and nuzzling his nose into the orange hair. The younger man feels so perfect in his arms—it’s as if he’s meant to be there and Minhyuk has the passing thought where he hopes that can be true, but it’s probably too much to ask for.

After Jooheon had finished showering, he had felt exhausted and wanted to go back to bed. They hadn’t spoken any further about what they had discussed that night, only that Kihyun, who he advised was a ghoul, would want to see him to remove his stitches as well as explain some things to him. Minhyuk had stayed with him until he fell asleep—he spent most of the night watching Jooheon slumber (well, besides for leaving the apartment for a little while to pick up some food for Jooheon for when he woke up), muddling in his own thoughts.

The discussion from the night before had drained Minhyuk too. He was thankful that Jooheon hadn’t run from him screaming, but so much of their future was still left in question. Minhyuk knows one thing—he wants to be with Jooheon and he’s fairly certain Jooheon wants to be with him too, but the sacrifices the other would have to make are staggering. It would be so much simpler for Jooheon to be with _anyone_ other than Minhyuk, and that notion does not escape him.

Even if Jooheon chooses to be a ghoul, the situation would still not be ideal. Being a ghoul changes a person. Sometimes the changes are neutral or minimal, but he’s heard a few horror stories where the changes can be bad. Really, _really_ bad and no one would know until it’s too late. Thinking about it terrifies Minhyuk—he wants nothing more than for Jooheon to stay just as he is now, but if they’re together, it just can’t be so. He feels so incredibly selfish to even put Jooheon in this situation to begin with, it’s so much to ask of someone and Minhyuk hates himself for doing it. All he can hope is that when Jooheon talks with Kihyun (if the brunette goes through with it, that is), he’ll understand the full scope of the situation and make a decision that he truly can live with—he doesn’t want him to regret it.

He wants Jooheon to be with him more than anything else, but he doesn’t want to make him miserable—he’s has a bad track record of that as of late. It doesn’t help that Minhyuk keeps continuously breaking all the rules and boarders he had set for himself. His hand has been completely forced into the existence he lives now and a long time ago he had decided it was best for him to be alone—it’s harder to hurt anyone when you’re by yourself. But, what Kihyun had said to him the night before is true, though he never admitted to himself out loud.

Minhyuk is in love and he doesn’t know if he should be allowed to.

His dark thoughts are interrupted by the form in his arms shifting and it makes him pull his head away from where it had still been nestled in orange locks. The body shifts again and Minhyuk smiles softly. “Are you awake?” He asks quietly.

There’s an audible smack of lips before a groggy reply of: “No.”

Minhyuk chuckles, unwrapping one of his arms that had been sitting secure at Jooheon’s waist so he can run his fingers through the man’s messy hair. “You can still sleep if you want,” says Minhyuk, glancing over his shoulder to check the time and his clock reads 9:03pm, “but you need to see Kihyun in around two hours so he can look you over and remove your stitches.”

Jooheon grumbles something that sounds nothing like the English language while he reaches out to pull the comforter more securely around his shoulders. “S’cold,” he mumbles.

Minhyuk grimaces, pulling his hand from Jooheon’s hair and he starts unwrapping himself from the other. “Sorry, I forget how cold I am.” He moves to pull away, but Jooheon’s arm grabs his own, only to pull it back to where it had been draped on his waist.

“I didn’t say to go anywhere,” says Jooheon, the younger man shifting to lay on his back, his sweet face looking over to him. He looks tired, but sounds aware when he continues with, “I like it when you hold me.”

Minhyuk smiles again—he always smiles around Jooheon, he finds—moving his hand to rub lightly at Jooheon’s side. “I like it too.”

He can smell the blood start to rush to the surface of Jooheon’s skin before he can see it as Jooheon’s eyes flicker around Minhyuk’s face. “Good morning,” Jooheon greets quietly.

Minhyuk laughs. “Good _evening_,” he corrects, leaning in to press a kiss on Jooheon’s warm forehead, unable to help himself. “You’re seriously too cute for words—do you know that?” When Minhyuk pulls away, he’s met with a pink face and a scowl.

“You _always_ call me cute,” Jooheon complains.

“I say it because it’s true!” Minhyuk grins. He shifts so he can hover over Jooheon, their faces so close he can see every eyelash when Jooheon’s eyes widen at the proximity. “And don’t act like you don’t like it when I do.”

Jooheon swallows thickly before averting his gaze for a moment. “I admit nothing,” he says, eyes flicking back to look Minhyuk dead on and the brown orbs are visibly dilated. They continue to stare for a moment before the other lets out an annoyed groan. “God damn it,” he curses, lunging forward to close the distance and capture Minhyuk’s lips with his own.

Minhyuk’s grin is kissed away as he eagerly presses forward, the orange-haired man’s arms coming up to wrap around his neck to pull him closer as Jooheon’s tongue pushes past Minhyuk’s lips to gain entry to his mouth. He tilts his head to deepen the kiss as he feels his body tingle in excitement, moving his hand to slide down from Jooheon’s side to settle on his outer thigh where he massages the silk covered skin with his thumb.

And Minhyuk is completely swept away by Jooheon—he finds that this happens whenever he’s with him, especially like _this_. He finds himself wanting much more than he should, but he just can’t help it. His mind swims with the feeling of their bodies pressing together, the urgency that they both openly show with how much they want each other. It’s as overwhelming as it is addicting and Minhyuk doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to get enough.

Minhyuk suckles on the other’s tongue and Jooheon groans openly into his mouth, the sound of it going straight to his dick. He can smell Jooheon’s blood rush through his veins and begin to head south as Minhyuk sweeps his large hand down to the man’s knee, moving across it only to slip over to Jooheon’s inner thigh. He trails his fingers slowly and softly, moving them up to stop _just_ shy of Jooheon’s crotch before moving them back down again and he repeats. Brushing up and down, up and down, up and down the sensitive skin continuously to the point that Jooheon’s legs begin to shake under his fingertips.

The orange-haired man parts from him with a desperate moan, lips already becoming swollen from their kissing, parted to pant for air. Jooheon’s eyes are nearly black from lust as he looks up at Minhyuk with obvious want—he doesn’t need to look down to see how hard Jooheon is as he’s in the same predicament.

“Quit teasing me, you ass,” Jooheon glares at him, but the desperation in his voice takes any bite out of the insult and only makes Minhyuk smirk down at him.

“Poor thing,” he purrs, speaking the words so close that their lips brush against each other as he continues to sweep his fingers along the length of his thigh in his tantalizing way. He kisses over to Jooheon’s ear, rolling his teeth over his earlobe before sucking it into his mouth and he’d be lying to say he doesn’t love how Jooheon’s whole body shivers. “I _never_ tease.”

He can practically hear Jooheon roll his eyes. “Then _what_ do you call what you’re doing?” Jooheon manages to press out as Minhyuk continues to play with his ear.

“Hm,” he hums, moving his mouth down to Jooheon’s pale neck to lick over his pulse. “Dunno,” is all he says as he sucks at the skin, letting his hand trail up high enough to brush next to the outline of Jooheon’s erection that is straining against his pajamas. He doesn’t even touch it but Jooheon bucks up anyway. “Oh,” he coos, “someone’s needy.”

“You’re a dominate little shit, aren’t you,” Jooheon groans out in frustration as he squirms, trying to bring Minhyuk’s fingers closer by moving his lower body but Minhyuk keeps tracing around where Jooheon obviously wants him to touch.

“You’re complaining, but I think you like me like this,” Minhyuk talks against his skin, voice vibrating against the flesh. He pulls away to look down at Jooheon whose face is flushed scarlet at the accusation. “I think you like when I tease you and take control. You said yesterday you like being dominated—did you think I’d forget?” He grins, Jooheon’s eyes widening.

“Shut up,” Jooheon says with no bite, turning his head away from Minhyuk in embarrassment.

“Hm, nah, don’t think I will,” teases Minhyuk. He finally moves his hand to begin palming at Jooheon through the silk of his pajamas and the man’s head snaps back to him, mouth immediately falling open in a silent gasp as he continues his ministrations. Minhyuk presses himself against Jooheon’s thigh, making sure that the man knows _exactly_ how he’s feeling too. His palm is moving in firm circles and he feels a twitch under his fingers. “Don’t be embarrassed, honeybee. You’re gorgeous like this.”

Jooheon’s eyes flutter at the compliment, lips still parted as he starts rocking into Minhyuk’s hand and arches his back and Minhyuk’s eyes darken at the sight. He dives down to lick into Jooheon’s parted mouth and he suddenly has the urge to eat Jooheon whole.

The room is then filled with the loud sound of a stomach growling and Minhyuk’s pulls away in surprise. As he looks down at Jooheon, he has to stop a laugh from bubbling out at the way the younger man looks like he wants to crawl away into a hole with how red his face and neck are from the sudden onslaught of embarrassment. It then dawns on Minhyuk that Jooheon hasn’t eaten anything in three days due to his injury and he feels instantly like the worst being in the universe.

Jesus, what is he _doing_?! Throw Jooheon in the room with him and he loses all common sense like he never had any to begin with. He literally stopped this the night before because Jooheon was still not completely healed and not only has he forgotten that, but he also forgot that Jooheon definitely needs to eat.

“Sorry,” he says immediately, pulling his hand away from where he had still been cupping Jooheon’s length. “We…shouldn’t do this now. You need to eat something.”

The younger man glares through his blush, bringing his smaller hands to grip at Minhyuk’s shirt tightly. “Come _on_, are you being serious right now?” He hisses, clearly trying to pull Minhyuk closer but he doesn’t budge.

“Yes, I am.” He smiles apologetically, sitting up to pull Jooheon’s hands gently away. “I said I wouldn’t do anything while you’re still hurt—I’m sorry. I got, uh, caught up in the moment, but…rain check?”

Jooheon huffs, grabbing the comforter to encase himself completely under the blanket and curling into a ball. His voice is muffled, but it’s easy for Minhyuk to hear him when he grumbles, “Blue balls two days in a row is fucking _cruel_.”

Minhyuk snorts. “Trust me, I _know_,” he glances at his own crotch where he’s still nearly fully hard. “But it’s the smarter thing to wait.” He hears Jooheon say something that sounds suspiciously like ‘responsible-assface’ and Minhyuk openly laughs.

He crawls out from the comforter to climb on top of it, wrapping his arms around the blanket cocoon Jooheon is engulfed in and speaks against the fabric that is covering his ear. “I promise when you’re healed, nothing will be able to stop me,” he whispers. “Be ready.” Jooheon’s body stiffens at his words.

There’s a pause and then: “Quit turning me on, you jerk!” The voice shouts from the blankets and Minhyuk laughs, patting Jooheon’s butt through the comforter before finally gets off the bed.

“Come on, we should get moving,” Minhyuk talks through his smile as he walks over to his armoire and opens the two large wooden doors on the top half above the drawers. He starts shuffling through the clothes hangers which are so overpacked together they barely shift without enough finagling.

There’s shuffling heard from the bed as Jooheon messily extracts himself from the bed. “I’m going to go shower first,” he mumbles, still sounding a bit sulky.

Minhyuk bites his lip. _No doubt to jerk off_, he thinks to himself and ignores the temptation to follow suit. “I’ll lay out some clothes for you and make you something light to eat while you’re showering,” he calls as Jooheon makes his way across the room to the bathroom. “Be careful when you walk down the stairs—they’re pretty steep.” There’s a grumble of ‘okay’ before Jooheon closes the door behind him.

After he picks out a shirt and pair of pants for Jooheon, which wasn’t easy—their body shapes are pretty different as Minhyuk is quite slim, but he managed to find a t-shirt by Balenciaga that was relatively baggy, his loosest set of jeans and a pair of underwear that had still been new in the package because Minhyuk normally didn’t wear any. He chooses his own outfit, dressing himself in a pair of designer jeans and a gold button up from Versace before he makes his way out of the loft to head downstairs to his kitchen.

He pops open the fridge once he reaches it to grab a bottle of water he had bought as well as the loaf of bread that was sitting next to cooler that housed his blood packs—he grabs one of those as well and downs it quickly so Jooheon doesn’t have to see him do it.

He throws the pack away once it’s drained, shoving it deep into his trash can where it can’t be seen before making his way over to the toaster that he can say has never been used even once since he got it (it was more for decoration than anything else). He pops two slices of toast into the toaster and pulls the lever down before grabbing the jar of peanut butter from where he had sat it down on the counter. He may have not cooked in over 14 years—not that he did much cooking prior to that, if he’s honest with himself—but at least he can remember how to make peanut butter toast.

When he hears the shower turn off from above, he grabs a glass plate from the cupboard after he washes it first (it was dusty) before plating the toast that had popped up from the toaster and slathering it with peanut butter. He sets the filled plate back to the counter but pauses when he hears an odd amount of shuffling coming from upstairs. He raises his eyebrow at the ceiling as he hears Jooheon curse a few times before another shuffle. Confused, he heads over to walk back up the stairs.

He was about to barge into his bedroom when it dawns on him that it might be rude so he settles to rap his knuckle against the door two times. “Jooheon?” He asks and hears the sound of the younger man falling onto the bed.

“Are you a toddler or something?” His muffled voice asks him as the sound of fabric getting thrown hard to the floor is heard. “How the hell do you _fit_ in these? They’re so small!”

Minhyuk bites his lip as he assumes the pants didn’t end up fitting over the other man’s much thicker thighs. “Does the shirt fit?” He asks him, pushing away the indecent thoughts that want emerge as he thinks about Jooheon’s legs—he’s probably their number one fan.

“Shirt’s fine,” Jooheon grumbles, opening the door to look at Minhyuk. He’s dressed in the Balenciaga shirt that fits him perfectly, but he’s wearing the pajama bottoms he had slept in. “I’ll need to go to my apartment to pick up some clothes—I can’t wear yours. Your pants don’t fit and I think this one t shirt probably cost more then all the clothes I’ve bought in my entire life.”

“A shirt’s a shirt no matter the cost,” says Minhyuk with a frown. It wasn’t at Jooheon’s jab at the price of his clothes, it was at the idea of him going back to his apartment. “I don’t want you going back there by yourself. I’ll go with you.”

Jooheon shakes his hair, still damp from his shower, out of his eyes. “It’s not a big deal—I doubt the guys that mugged me would be chilling there waiting for more. They took all I had, anyway.”

Minhyuk frown deepens. “Regardless.” He pauses, looking at Jooheon carefully. “Did you…recognize the people who hurt you?”

The orange-haired man shakes his head, playing with the fabric of his sleeve. “Nope. Just your run-of-the-mill scum bags—probably from Skid Row. Not like it’s anything out of the ordinary, I just happened to be the victim instead of someone else.”

He purses his lips at the response, a small flare of rage starting to bubble through his body. Minhyuk wasn’t one to get angry, not frequently, anyway. But the anger he feels at the thought of the men that nearly took Jooheon’s life is almost all consuming.

“Can I do something?” He asks after a beat.

Jooheon raises is eyebrows. “What?”

Minhyuk takes a short step forward. “Can I look into your memories?” He clarifies, a bit hesitant. “I won’t do it unless you are okay with it, I promise. But, I’d like to see if the men that hurt you are anyone I know—to make sure that they aren’t connected to Kindred society. I’ll need to deal with them if they are.” The second part of what Minhyuk says isn’t a _complete_ lie. He highly doubts that the muggers are supernatural in nature—no Kindred he knew would leave any trace of an attack, they’re much too crafty and careful. However, there could still be a _slim_ possibility that they were, but overall it was just an excuse to see what they looked like. He’ll need their images for…future reference.

Jooheon tugs a bit nervously at his ear while he mulls over Minhyuk’s request. “Well…I mean—will it hurt or anything?”

He shakes his head rapidly. “No, I wouldn’t do anything that would hurt you. You don’t even need to try and remember what happened, I’ll be able to find it on my own.”

“You won’t—,” starts Jooheon, blood started to spread to the surface of his skin. “You won’t look into anything else? Just the one memory?”

Minhyuk smiles at him, closing the space so he can rest his large hand against the side of Jooheon’s neck, rubbing it soothingly with the pad of his thumb. “No, I won’t. It’s a recent memory so it’ll be a quick find. Is that okay?”

Jooheon sucks on his lower lip for a moment before letting it go with a pop. “Okay, I trust you,” he tells him softly.

“Thank you,” murmurs Minhyuk, and he means it. He raises his other hand to rest on Jooheon’s shoulder as he makes eye contact. “Just look into my eyes—you won’t feel anything, it’ll just be like you zoned out for a few seconds. Ready?” Jooheon gives him a quick nod, eyes staying locked with his.

There’s a _thump_ and a short pulse of energy he feels as he enters Jooheon mind, the world around them instantly blurring at the edges. Memories and thoughts flash past him like he’s looking out the window of a fast moving train, but he ignores everything, as he promised, that isn’t related to the attack from a few nights prior. It doesn’t take long for him to find it, attaching to the memory and he soon sees what happened as if it was being seen through his own eyes.

He sees the man accost Jooheon as he attempts to get into his building, sees as they shove him against the wall that cracks against Jooheon’s skull. He sees and feels the terror Jooheon felt once he falls to the ground in an attempt to to get away. How one of them stabs him in the gut and when the other kicks him in the head with a steel-toed boot. Then he sees red.

Unable to take anymore, he separates from Jooheon’s mind. Seeing what happened was so much worse than he expected, his chest feels heavy but it was worth it—he’s gotten what he needed. The faces of the men that hurt him are burned into his own memory forever as if he had taken a picture. He’ll be able to find them now. Once the connection is broken, Jooheon blinks up at him before shaking his head.

“Well, that felt weird,” is what the man says to him after blinking a few more times.

Unable to help himself, Minhyuk pulls Jooheon to him, fingers lacing into the back of his hair as he presses the other’s head into his shoulder, wrapping his other arm around his waist. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. The memory just proves to him how close he was to losing Jooheon forever—it’s an irrational feeling he suddenly feels, but he never wants to let Jooheon out of his sight again.

Jooheon hugs his arms around Minhyuk’s waist. “Don’t worry, I’m fine now, remember?”

Minhyuk only hums in response, looking away while his own expression becomes dark, the images of the men’s faces flashing in front of his eyes.

_I’m going to rip them apart._

☼

Jooheon allows Minhyuk to come with him on his taxi ride over to his apartment. The driver doesn’t bat an eye at the fact the Jooheon is wearing pajamas as pants, but he shouldn’t be surprised—the guy has probably seen much stranger.

The two of them are quiet as they make their way up the stairs to reach his door—someone must have cleaned up the stairwell, at least, as there is no sign that anything had been amiss. When they approach the door, he immediately notices a bright pink piece of paper taped to his door, that’s stating ‘EVICTION NOTICE’ in massive letters like it’s yelling at him. He glances over the note quickly, catching that it says he needs to be out of his apartment by October first and Jooheon can’t help but snort as he rips it from the wood.

“Not surprised,” he sighs, crunching the paper in his fist before tossing it over his shoulder. “That’s what happens when you haven’t paid a full month’s rent in 3 months.”

When he glances over to Minhyuk as he fishes out his keys (by some miracle they hadn’t been lost), the blond man has his lips pursed together in a thin line. “I didn’t know it was that bad,” he speaks softly, in a way that the comment might have been more for himself than Jooheon, but he answers it anyway with a shrug.

“It wasn’t your problem,” he says simply and Minhyuk mouth turns into a frown. “Don’t worry about it.” He clicks open the lock and enters the apartment with the other man in tow, flicking the light switch on and his eyes widen in shock at the massive blood stain that greets him. “Oh,” is all he says as he stares at it—the sight makes him feel a bit nauseous. Holy shit, how did he survive _that_?

He doesn’t know how long he stares at the dried blood in horror, but he’s roused out of his shock by the feeling of a hand gently grasping his shoulder. He glances back, Minhyuk looking at him with a worried expression.

“Do you want me to grab your stuff for you?” He asks, hand remaining on Jooheon’s shoulder as the large brown eyes flicker around his face. “You can wait outside if you want.”

Jooheon smiles small, shaking his head as he pats at the hand on him before he removes it. “No, it’s fine,” he says back, motioning vaguely at the ruined floor. “There goes my security deposit, huh?” Minhyuk snorts at his comment and follows Jooheon as he makes his way to his bedroom.

It doesn’t take him long to grab his things. He still has an old backpack from when he was in college that he quickly stuffs full with his clothes from his dresser after changing into a pair of his own jeans. He grabs the few toiletries from his bathroom and finds the old phone he smashed the month before. It’s completely useless, but he hopes that he might be able to at least get his contacts transferred from it since the phone Youngjae had given him was stolen—

Wait. Youngjae?

“Holy shit, I was supposed to work today!” He exclaims out loud, dropping his bag to the floor in a panic.

“I took care of it.” Jooheon’s head shoots over to the mattress, where Minhyuk has perched himself with his arms stretched out behind him as he leans back, looking incredibly out of place in the drab room. He looks at him in question before Minhyuk replies with: “They think you’re on vacation until next week. They don’t expect you to come in until next Friday.”

“How did you—?” He begins to ask before he stops himself, shaking his head. “Never mind, I’m sure it’s vampire stuff, right?” Minhyuk smiles sheepishly at him, but doesn’t answer—not like he needs him to, anyway. “Well, thanks, I think. Glad I won’t get fired, at least,” he mumbles and it greeted with silence as Minhyuk doesn’t reply to that either.

He has a passing thought, wondering if he’ll even be able to keep his job while staying with Minhyuk like he intends to, but he pushes the thought away for the time being—his job, for once, is the least of his problems.

He does a once over his entire apartment before he finally zips up his backpack. It’s sad how all his belongings (minus the furniture, it came with the place) can fit into one bag, but at least it’s easy to move. He leaves his set of keys on the scuffed kitchen counter on his way and he can’t say he’ll miss the place once they finally leave—it never felt like a home to him, anyway.

Minhyuk calls him a cab and when he clambers into the back seat, he’s surprised that Minhyuk doesn’t climb in, but closes the car door behind him. He rolls down the window in alarm as he asks, “Aren’t you coming with me?”

“I have something to do for work,” Minhyuk says, smiling in apology as he leans into the window. “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine—Kihyun’s an ass, but he’s safe. I wouldn’t let you go to him if he wasn’t. He’s just going to give you a check up and talk to you about some things.” He glances at the cab driver, who is staring dutifully out the windshield but the blond still lowers his voice a bit when he says, “Just…try not to think loudly around him and don’t be alarmed if he answers things you didn’t ask or say—it’s normal.” Jooheon bobs his head back at the statement in complete confusion. How does a person think _loudly_? What is he talking about? “Have him text me when you get there, okay?” All he can do is nod in response. “Okay. I’ll see you later,” says Minhyuk, giving him a pretty smile before stepping back from the cab with a wave to which Jooheon returns awkwardly.

Jooheon’s stomach is in knots the entire cab ride as they head to a residential area near downtown LA. He doesn’t know what to expect. All he knows is that Kihyun was the one to sew up his injuries, as well as a ghoul who could hopefully answer his questions—though he has no idea what to even ask him or where to start. He hopes that’ll come to him at some point.

The drive ends too quick and eventually he’s dropped off in front of an incredibly nice two-story townhouse perched at the end of a steep street. Minhyuk had already paid for the cab, so he had no excuse to dawdle as he finally walks up the four stone steps that lead to a large white door.

He shuffles in his spot for a while, staring at the door as if it’s going to bite him before he eventually raises his hand to knock on the door. His knuckles don’t even make it to the wood as the door is flung open by a short man dressed in tan slacks and a white dress shirt. He looks to be near Jooheon’s age, with brown hair, sharp eyes and annoyed an expression on his face as he glares.

“You’re _late_,” the man—who he instantly guesses is Kihyun—snaps at him. “It’s already past 11:45.”

“Uh, sorry,” Jooheon rushes, shifting his bag on his shoulder awkwardly. The way Kihyun stares at him as he struggles to find words is intense—like a fox staring at his prey before he pounces. “I had to do something before I came here. I’m—.”

“Jooheon. I know,” finishes Kihyun. Jooheon expects him to invite him inside, but the shorter man does the opposite. He takes a step outside and turns around to lock the door behind him. “You know who I am already,” he states, turning the key in the lock before pockets it. He moves past Jooheon to walk briskly down the stairs. “You’re going to help me with something. Come on.”

He blinks, standing stagnant for a few seconds before he realizes that Kihyun isn’t kidding—he continues to walk away from Jooheon and he has to rush after him to catch up. “Hold up! Help you with what?”

“I’ve lost something—well, some_one_, I should say,” says Kihyun and Jooheon notices he has a bit of a lisp. As that thought passes his mind, the brunette turns to look at him sharply and it makes him swallow nervously. There’s a pause before he continues. “And you’re going to help me find him.”

“…How did you lose him?” Jooheon can’t help but ask while he lugs his relatively heavy backpack so the straps are over both his shoulders and more secure.

“He snuck out when I wasn’t looking,” snips Kihyun as he frowns. He leads them to the end of the block and he glances around, as if he’s listening for something, before he nods his head to the right and they head down the street. “He must have turned invisible when I wasn’t paying attention to get out—he knows he’s not supposed to leave without me, the idiot.”

“Wait, he can turn _invisible_?! How are we supposed to find him?” He blanches, squinting around as if he’ll suddenly see something, which is dumb—it’s not like he knows who he is looking for.

“Well, I don’t expect _you_ to do anything, honestly,” the other snorts in a condescending way, glancing down at a simple watch with a leather band on his wrist. It looks vintage. “You’re just here because I don’t know you and I don’t want to leave you alone in my house.” Jooheon frowns at him. “Now, shush. I’m listening for him and you’re distracting me.”

_What is happening right now?_ He thinks to himself as he follows the shorter man around in complete confusion, but remains quiet as directed. They pause at the end of the next block before Kihyun decides to turn left. They pass a few people as they make their way, but Jooheon gathers that none of them are who Kihyun is looking for as he doesn’t pause his brisk pace. It would have been at least helpful to get a description of the person they’re supposed to be finding.

A moment later, the man stops abruptly. “Sshh,” He scolds, raising a finger at him before turning his ear away in concentration.

“But I didn’t say any—.”

“Sshh!” Kihyun shushes him again, loudly. “Your thoughts are like they’re being shouted at me through a megaphone—no wonder Minhyuk likes you. You’re as loud as he is.”

Jooheon tries to recall a time where he frowned _and_ blushed at the same time, but comes up blank outside of this moment. He’s about to say something snarky back when what the brunette says completely registers. “You can _hear_ my _thoughts_!?”

“It’s not by choice, trust me. They’re not very interesting,” says Kihyun. Jooheon gapes at him—for _multiple_ reasons—before he sees Kihyun snap his head up. “I got him—he’s about two blocks away. Let’s go.” He motions for Jooheon to follow him as he begins walking yet again.

“What does this dude even look like?” Jooheon glowers, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He’s trying hard not to sulk. _He_ thinks his thoughts are interesting. “I won’t even know if we see him.”

“You’ll know it’s him once we get there,” answers the other with his eyes trained forward.

The two blocks are walked in silence as Jooheon struggles to ‘think quietly’, Minhyuk’s words ringing in his head as they finally make sense to him. He doesn’t know if he’s doing it successfully, but Kihyun at least doesn’t shush him again.

They pass along a small block of businesses, including a café, a gym, and a dance studio for children. They’re all closed, of course, so the block shouldn’t really be busy with anyone other than those walking past, but Jooheon’s eyes instantly fall on a man that can’t be missed. He’s about as tall as Kihyun and with a similar build, dressed in a vibrant, teal Hawaiian shirt and black leather pants which are as dark and shiny as his hair. His clothes are odd enough, but that’s not the thing that alarms him the most—

He’s arguing with a wall.

“You have _some _nerve,” his voice, which is surprisingly deep for his stature, booms. “Talking to me like you have the right to tell me what to do! Who do you think you are, huh?”

He rambles on as both Kihyun and Jooheon stop several paces away, Kihyun releasing an exasperated sigh. “God damn it, he’s yelling at a poster of Smokey the Bear.”

Jooheon looks at Kihyun’s expression of utter annoyance before turning back to the scene in front of him. He squints and sees that the person in front of him is, indeed, having a heated discussion with a poster of Smokey the Bear in all his glory, words written in red font reading ‘STOP! Only you can prevent forest fires.’ Jooheon _really_ should laugh at how ridiculous the scene is, but he’s in too much shock to figure out how he should react, so he settles to stare in complete wonder.

“Do you think I don’t know California has a problem with wild fires?” He hears the voice continue, getting up close to the poster to poke at it. “I’ve lived here for decades, of course I fucking know! How long have _you_ been here?”

There’s another sigh from off to his side. “Changkyun,” calls Kihyun, taking a step closer. He’s ignored.

“That’s what I thought. You have nothing to say for yourself.”

“Changkyun.”

“_And_ your hat is stupid, too—makes you look like a nark.”

“_Changkyun_.”

“Didn’t anyone tell you it’s rude to point?” ‘Changkyun’ hisses, eyes narrowing. There’s a silence before he shouts, “QUIT TELLING ME TO STOP!” 

“CHANGKYUN!”

“What!?” The black-haired man shouts back, flicking his gaze over to them in anger. However, as soon as his eyes fall on Kihyun, his whole face brightens up like a firework. “Kiki!” He exclaims, zipping over to Kihyun much quicker than should be possible. “What are you doing here?” He asks, grabbing onto Kihyun’s arm and tugs at him. Now that he’s closer, Jooheon can’t help but notice that the man is pretty good looking—his nose is large, but fits his face, he has pretty eyes and a charming smile with blindingly white teeth. He even has dimples.

Kihyun shakes himself out of the grip before he flicks Changkyun roughly on the forehead. The other man hisses, shrinking back with both hands over his forehead as he pouts. “Looking for _you_, dumb ass,” Kihyun scolds, glaring at the other man. “_What_ have I told you about sneaking out by yourself? You know better!”

“But I was so _bored_,” whines Changkyun, his voice becoming nasally. “You were just sitting around and reading—it was like watching a dog running away in Iowa. It just kept going for _hours_.”

“It was my study time and did _not_ go on for hours. If you wanted to go out, you could have just told me and we could have gone out together instead of you giving me a heart attack!” Kihyun continues to chastise and Changkyun seems to shrink under the scrutiny. “I had an appointment, which is why I was staying in and I told you that. Now my whole evening is set back because you had to sneak out.”

The man’s face falls and the expression makes him look incredibly young. He hangs his head down so the fringe of his bangs covers his eyes. “M’sorry,” he mumbles out softly.

Jooheon watches the exchange in complete bewilderment. He gathers that Changkyun is Kihyun’s vampire master, but the dynamic he’s witnessing is completely the opposite of what he was expecting and it’s throwing him off kilter. He wasn’t expecting to meet a vampire that night regardless—let alone someone who is clearly missing several screws.

_They’re super weird. Is this normal?_ He thinks, and as soon as the thought finishes in his mind, two intense gazes snap over to him immediately as if he had voiced it out loud. He squeaks in alarm.

“Uh,” Jooheon utters, eyes wide.

“Oh!” The deep voice of Changkyun exclaims, an impish smile taking over his face as he bounds for Jooheon. Before Jooheon is even able to take a step back, the shorter man is instantly in front of him with a set of incredibly cold hands pinching his cheeks. “Look at you! Your skin’s smooth like a dumpling!”

“Uh, thank you?” Jooheon tries—he guesses his eyes are about the size of dinner plates while he stares at the dark-haired man, his cheeks being manhandled.

“_Ooo_,” coos Changkyun, leaning further into his personal space, closing his eyes and giving an exaggerated sniff. When he opens them again, his lips slide into a smirk that makes Jooheon a little uncomfortable. “You smell _fresh_, little boy. Like a new Cadillac splashed with lemon juice.”

“That’s enough,” scolds Kihyun, grabbing the collar of Changkyun’s Hawaiian shirt and tugging hard, making the man stumble backwards. “Don’t scare the poor kid to death. We need to head home.” Changkyun whines at him but Kihyun keeps his hold and starts dragging him in the direction they came from. He looks over his shoulder where Jooheon is standing frozen. “Coming?”

Jooheon blinks, trying to process what happened, before ultimately following. Not like he has much of a choice.

“Sit here.” Jooheon hears Kihyun say as he looks wearily around the study he finds himself in. The room is decked out in rich oak, from the towering bookshelves that reach the ceiling to the hardwood floor. Everything looks old—well kept, but old—like it should be in a museum. It makes him not want to touch anything.

“Hey,” calls Kihyun, raising his eyebrow at him as he taps onto the large desk he’s standing next to. “I said sit here.”

“You mean on the desk?”

“Yes, Jooheon. On the desk.” Kihyun says with an annoyed tone. “Come on, I don’t have all night.”

Jooheon trudges over as told, feeling a bit awkward as he pulls himself to sit atop of the desk. He watches Kihyun turn around and head to a large cupboard in the opposite corner of the room. He fiddles around inside of it for a moment before retrieving a leather bag and closing the cupboard door behind him.

He plops the bag down on the desk next to where Jooheon sits once he’s walked back over and starts rifling through it. “Take off your shirt.”

Jooheon moves to do so, but hesitates with his hands on the hem, suddenly feeling shy. He realizes that Kihyun is supposed to be a doctor, but since they’re in a study, not a doctor’s office, it makes him think he’s in some bad porn flick and it makes him feel awkward.

Kihyun notices his pause straight away and gives him a stern stare. “I said _off_,” he orders, pulling out a packet of cotton pads and a bottle of rubbing alcohol. “I was a combat medic in the Korean War—believe me when I say I’ve seen much worse than your soft stomach.”

Jooheon scowls a little at the comment while he finally slips off the shirt Minhyuk had loaned him, revealing his naked torso to the room. Kihyun’s bedside manner leaves something to be desired.

“I heard that,” Kihyun says with a flick of his eyes as he douses a cotton pad with alcohol. “Lay back.”

Jooheon frowns, but lies back onto the desk. The wood is cold on his back and the wet pad is cold on his stomach too as Kihyun wipes over his stitched wounds. “It’s rude to eavesdrop, you know,” he mumbles, but regrets it after he says it. He expects to have Kihyun scold him again, but he surprises him by releasing a tired sigh.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, wiping over Jooheon’s stomach once more before tossing the pad into a garbage can next to him. “It’s not something I’m able to turn off. Imagine having an annoying song stuck in your head that refuses to leave. It’s like that all the time with no reprieve—it gets impossible to ignore most of the time.”

“That…sounds miserable.”

“Yeah, it’s not great,” replies Kihyun, moving back to his leather bag to dig around for a moment. “But you get used to it after a few decades.”

Jooheon purses his lips, crossing his hands over his chest as he looks up at the ceiling. “So, do you hear thoughts from—uh, being a ghoul?”

“I do,” says Kihyun. He hears some more shuffling as the brunette pulls a few things out of the bag. “When you drink vampire blood, you gain some of their abilities—good or bad. Changkyun hears voices that tell him things, and in turn, so do I. Not as badly as he does, but I also have a better grasp of what’s going on—it’s easier for me to say no to them.”

Jooheon hesitates on his next question, but eventually asks, “Has he always been like…_that_?”

“Mentally ill?” Kihyun clarifies. Jooheon glances at him and sees he’s holding a pair of tweezers in one hand and a set of small, pointy scissors in the other. Jooheon nods. “Well, he wasn’t like that when he was human, I’m sure. He’s Malkovian—when a member of their clan embraces a person, the mortal mind completely collapses with the embrace and they’re left deranged. Some are worse off than others. Changkyun has lucid moments occasionally when he concentrates really hard, but he mostly lives his life like a schizophrenic without any medication.”

“What a terrible way to live,” Jooheon can’t help but mutter, feeling a large amount of sympathy and as if on queue, a deep voice sounds from somewhere within the townhouse singing: _‘I’ve got a lovely bunch of co-co-nuts, deedle-dee-dee, here they are all standing in a row, bum, bum, BUM.’_

There’s a small smile on Kihyun’s lips as he hears the singing too. “You get used to it. He’s lived that way for nearly three-hundred-years—he doesn’t know much else.” Kihyun leans over Jooheon’s abdomen after adjusting the table lamp to get better light. “You’ll feel some tugging, but this shouldn’t hurt. Stay still.”

Jooheon raises his head in shock at the age of Changkyun, but Kihyun shoots him a look and he obediently falls back down. “He’s _three-hundred_?” He manages, feeling a slight tug on his stomach and then hears the snip of the scissors. “How is that even possible?”

“Kindred are immortal, what did you expect?” Kihyun snorts, followed by another snip and a tug. “Minhyuk is young. Most of the vampires in LA are relatively old in comparison—he’s a bit of an oddity.”

“So,” Jooheon starts carefully, “if Changkyun is a Mal-whatever-you-said, what’s Min?”

“Toreador,” Kihyun answers. “They’re the _pretty_ vampires. An arrogant, prissy and manipulative lot given the gift of eternal youth and beauty. They’re the best off, if you ask me—they blend in easiest among mortals.” Kihyun voice sounds snide. “I’ll say that Minhyuk is the least obnoxious Toreador I’ve met, for the most part—at least he talks about things other than _art_,” Kihyun grouses, moving over to another wound near Jooheon’s ribs. “Minhyuk struggles a lot, though, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. He hates everything about what he is.”

“Do you know what happened to him?” Asks Jooheon softly. He lifts his head to look at the brunette, who doesn’t look up from his work in turn. He just finishes cutting the stitches on one wound before moving to the next.

“I do,” Kihyun says eventually, still not looking up. There’s a pregnant pause before he adds: “But that isn’t my story to tell. He’ll probably tell you eventually—if you stick around, that is.”

Jooheon frowns, falling back, his head making a quiet thump against the wood as he narrows his eyes at the ceiling. “I’m not going anywhere,” he states firmly.

Kihyun snorts at the statement. “Love is blind, as always.” Jooheon flushes immediately and that rouses an actual chuckle out of Kihyun. “Sorry, you can’t hide that sort of stuff from me. Most of your thoughts are about that blond bastard. It’s impossible to miss.”

His face feels like it’s boiling and he instantly needs to divert the subject. “Do you like being a ghoul?”

There’s a beat. “_Like_ isn’t a word I would use,” Kihyun replies. He finishes removing the last stitch on the final wound before setting the scissors and tweezers off to the side. “It has his perks, I suppose. I don’t age, I don’t ever get sick and I’m stronger and faster than I ever was before.” Kihyun offers his hand to Jooheon, which he accepts, letting the brunette pull him back into a sitting position and he’s handed his shirt back. “But I still wouldn’t recommend it.”

Jooheon frowns a bit as he tugs the shirt over his head. “Why, though? Those sound like all positives to me.”

Kihyun hums, appraising Jooheon while he leans against the side of the desk, arms crossed and eyes focused. “Do you have an addictive personality, Jooheon?”

He blinks at the question. “Uh, I’m not sure. I don’t _think_ so? I mean, no more than your average person, I’d guess.”

“Well, taking Vitae is like taking the world’s best drug,” says Kihyun, looking him in the eyes. “You didn’t notice it as you were unconscious and most of the blood in your system was used to heal you, but you get a high after you take it, without any of the bad side effects. Many ghouls become addicted to it like a meth addict and would do anything to get it, even if they don’t need it to stay young and strong. I don’t see any prior addictions in your past, which would work in your favor, but it’s still a possibility.”

“Regardless of that, once you become a ghoul, you’re tied to that Kindred implicitly. You’d be literally at Minhyuk’s beck and call—he could ask you to do nearly anything and you would do it without much thought if he orders you to.” His expression turns a bit dark as he looks at the wall, away from Jooheon’s gaze. “You could be asked to steal something, to _kill_ someone, and you wouldn’t be able to fight it.”

Jooheon scowls. “Minhyuk would never ask me to do any of those things.”

The brunette turns to look at him again. “You’re right, he wouldn’t. But it’s still something to consider.” He releases a sigh, walking around the desk to plop down into a plush leather chair. “A ghoul is completely dependent on their Kindred master in a lot of ways. I’m eighty-nine years old—do you know why I still look so young?”

“Well, you said while you drink vampire blood you don’t age, so…” Jooheon furrows his eyebrows.

“Right,” says Kihyun slowly. “But that’s also because I drink it, like clockwork, once a month. Do you know what would happen if I don’t?” Jooheon remains silent. “My body would age to my _true_ age. Jooheon, you’re young. If it happened to you right now, you wouldn’t even notice—a month’s time would be nothing. However, I would, in a matter of seconds, go from twenty-four to the tender age of 89. It would probably kill me.” Jooheon swallows nervously while Kihyun pushes forward. “Imagine, a hundred years down the line and Minhyuk accidentally forgets to give you his Vitae—you’d crumble to dust and nothing could save you. You’d just be…gone.”

They fall into a silence, his thoughts mulling over what he was told. This was…so much more complicated than he had hoped. Minhyuk didn’t explain being a ghoul to the extent that Kihyun had—did he do it on purpose? The thought of that makes him a little angry.

“Don’t be too mad at Minhyuk,” Kihyun interrupts his thoughts. “I believe he didn’t tell you because he wanted you to hear it from someone who has experienced it. Also, I’m sure he didn’t want to scare you.”

Jooheon’s anger ebbs away a bit, but is replaced with frustration. “He should have _told_ me all this, though; he left so much out. I don’t want him to keep stuff away from me even if I get scared—especially if I’m going to be living that life.”

“It’s selfish of him, yeah,” shrugs Kihyun, looking at him evenly. “I’d cut him some slack, though, even though I hate to say it. You make him happy, Jooheon—and he wants to be with you. He wouldn’t be the first person to do something selfish in an attempt to stay with someone.” He cants his head to the side. “That’s pretty human, don’t you think?”

Jooheon doesn’t reply. He inhales deeply, holding the air deep in his lungs before releasing the breath slowly through his nose. He nods eventually, looking over to Kihyun. “Can I ask you something?”

Kihyun snorts. “I know what you’re going to ask, but you can say it out loud if it makes you feel better.”

Jooheon thinks, as loudly as he can, about how Kihyun is clearly the snarkiest person he’s ever met, but the brunette just turns his nose up at him. “Why did you become a ghoul?”

The reply comes instantly. “The same reason you will. Love.”

Jooheon laughs through his nose, turning his gaze to the carpet as he kicks his heals lightly against the wood of the desk. It must be hard for Minhyuk to be friends with Kihyun—he knows exactly what you want, even before you say it out loud yourself.

“You’re right,” he murmurs quietly. “I will.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another ridiculously long chapter—I think I’m incapable of writing anything short at this point haha I hope it was okay, I had to finish it up quick to get it posted...hopefully it was at least a fun read!!!
> 
> I’m sorry this was posted a little later than my other updates. This month has been murder for me because of work and with the holidays coming up next week I’ve been crazy busy. There will not be a chapter update next week—I’m sorry TTxTT I need a couple weeks to catch up since I haven’t been writing as much due to being busy, but I will be back with an update on January 4th!! I hope you guys will wait for me until then 
> 
> Thanks, as always, to everyone who continues to follow and read this story, it makes me so happy I can’t even tell you! The comments I keep getting are all so nice and lovely. You guys are seriously the best and it gives me so much motivation 😭🥺 I can’t thank you enough!! 
> 
> All feedback, comments and kudos are always greatly appreciated <3 See you on January 4th!


	7. Happy Birthday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here are some definitions I should have added with the last chapter, but better late than never, right??
> 
> Definitions:
> 
> Obfuscate: the discipline of concealment, stealth and deception, allowing the user to hide small objects, appear as someone else entirely, or turning themselves completely invisible.
> 
> Auspex: the discipline of insight, which can allow its user the ability to gather information from their surroundings, or also from a person’s mind via their thoughts.

The next two weeks pass by for Jooheon relatively uneventfully, all things considered. He had been evicted officially from his apartment, but truthfully, Jooheon never even thought of going back since he saw the notice. Once Jooheon had come back to Minhyuk’s the night he had spoken with Kihyun, Minhyuk, unsurprisingly, welcomed Jooheon with open arms.

That same night, Jooheon had made his decision and he told the blond with a certainty that he would become his ghoul. The man’s expression was a mixture of emotions—Minhyuk had looked happy, ecstatic even, but he appeared equally as concerned by the declaration.

“Are you sure?” Minhyuk had asked him, one large hand resting on Jooheon’s shoulder, the other used to push his orange hair out of his eyes. “Are you completely, totally sure? I don’t want you to regret it, Jooheon—it isn’t really something you can turn back on. Is it really worth it for you?”

Jooheon had looked up into Minhyuk’s eyes in silence for a few moments. His conversation with Kihyun had answered some questions, but also left room for many more. He knew his life would never be the same and would probably become more complicated, but he knew that Minhyuk would be in it and that was enough for him—he wouldn’t be leaving much behind anyway. His life prior to meeting Minhyuk had been miserable, and the few months he spent without the man had been even worse. His response to Minhyuk’s question was relatively simple to him.

“I’m sure,” Jooheon told him. “But I don’t want any more lies or secrets. I want you to be honest with me from this point forward, even if you think something might scare me. I don’t want to be left in the dark anymore, Min. I can’t handle it.”

Minhyuk had pursed his lips, regret showing on his face. “I’ll be honest, I promise.” He leaned forward, kissing Jooheon on the forehead in a sweet gesture that gave him butterflies. It almost felt like a statement of ‘I love you’, without the words—but maybe that was just how Jooheon felt. The three little words were on the tip of Jooheon’s tongue, but he doesn’t—_hasn’t_—uttered them and neither has Minhyuk. And for now, that’s okay.

So, Jooheon starts his life as a ghoul.

His life, funnily enough, doesn’t _feel_ that different like he thinks it should. He still has been going to his few shifts at the bar as Minhyuk said it would be fine to do so, at least for the short term, so that aspect has remained the same. He just comes home to Minhyuk’s (their?) apartment instead of his old place above the shitty pawn shop. His life prior had been mostly about work and trying to find a way to have enough money to get by, but now that he lived with Minhyuk rent free (the older man owned his apartment), he could argue that his life has improved as he doesn’t have the stress of making sure he has a roof over his head—and it’s so nice to have someone to come home to.

Jooheon finds living with Minhyuk to be so easy. They mesh so well together, like two puzzle pieces finally finding each other and fitting perfectly—as if it was made to be that way. He loves how naturally they appear to move around in one another’s presence, it feels like they’ve lived together for months instead of days.

As strange as it sounds, the fact that Minhyuk is not human, comes off as secondary and it’s something that Jooheon even forgets about. Sure, there are things that are different, like how there are blood packs next to Jooheon’s eggs in the fridge (which _is _a little weird). Minhyuk is still, and always will be, cool to the touch and when Jooheon rests his head on his chest, he’ll never hear a heartbeat, but even so—Minhyuk is still Minhyuk, no matter what he may be and it just _works. _Their relationship isn’t conventional in most senses, but to him they’re still just two people, living together who seem to really, _really_ like each other. And in the end, like he said before, it works for them. In the end, Jooheon only has _one_ problem so far—

Minhyuk refuses to touch him and it’s driving him fucking nuts.

Well, that statement isn’t _completely_ accurate. Whenever they are in the same room together (which is often), Minhyuk finds every excuse to touch him in one way or another. Whether it’s kissing him on every inch of his face, hugging him at any free opportunity or running his fingers through Jooheon’s hair. The blond is incredibly affectionate, if not a little clingy, but so is Jooheon. It’s not as if he doesn’t like this kind of touching or affection—in fact, it’s the opposite. He loves the attention and has a tendency to bask in it (he’ll never admit it out loud, but he adores being cooed over), but that isn’t the issue he’s finding.

Whenever the two of them start getting more intimate, sharing heated kisses and touches all over each other’s body, the other man always has to find an excuse to stop _right_ before it starts getting good and it’s…So. Fucking. _Frustrating_.

“You’re tired, you should sleep.” Or “I can tell you’re hungry—let’s get you something to eat.” Are common statements to come from Minhyuk, always at the point when Jooheon’s entire body is aching for more, aching for Minhyuk to take things further than just heavy petting, but he never does and it’s driving Jooheon insane. The sexual tension between them only becomes heavier and heavier, it can practically be cut with a knife and yet Minhyuk continues to leave Jooheon hanging, wanting so much but not coming close to getting it.

And it’s so clear that Minhyuk wants it just as badly as he does. The way he looks at Jooheon makes it so abundantly obvious—and even though Minhyuk is always (_always_) the one to pull the plug, half the time he is the one who started it in the first place, which makes it all the more infuriating. It’d be different if Jooheon was getting the impression he was pressuring Minhyuk into something he truly didn’t want, but that doesn’t appear to be the case. He can tell—hell, he can even _feel_ how much Minhyuk is attracted to him, sexually or otherwise, and it isn’t as if the older man is able to hide how aroused he gets during these encounters, but still he always stops.

He tries to bring it up, but Minhyuk repeatedly finds a way to divert his attention elsewhere and, in turn, it continues to get pushed off to the sidelines. It’s going to have to be addressed soon, though. Jooheon feels as if he’s going to erupt in an explosion of pent up sexual frustration if he’s cut off _one_ more time without at least a decent explanation as to why—something other than Minhyuk claiming he looks ‘tired’ or ‘hungry’. Sex to him isn’t something that he absolutely has to have, but it merely comes down to the fact that he truly aches for that closeness with Minhyuk—it’s as simple as that.

This situation is what he happens to be stewing over that particular night. It’s a little past 10pm, the night before Jooheon’s birthday. He is washing up the dishes he dirtied after making himself dinner (well, breakfast, he supposes—it is his first meal of the day, after all). He had been zoning out, watching the water run into the sink and down the drain when he feels a chin settle onto his shoulder.

“What are you doing?” Minhyuk asks him, hooking his fingers into the belt loops on the back of Jooheon’s jeans, the lean man’s body feeling cool, as usual, as he presses lightly against him.

“Hm?” Jooheon hums. He snaps out of his thoughts at the question, reaching in to retrieve the plate he had meant to be washing along with a sponge. “Washing my dishes.”

The blond man snorts. “I figured as much, but you were just staring at the water for, like, ten minutes.” He sees Minhyuk turn his head to peer at Jooheon’s profile. “What’s up?”

Jooheon shrugs his shoulders, Minhyuk’s head bobbing a little with the movement. “Nothing, just a little tired, I guess,” he replies, which isn’t completely false. Even though his job at the bar required him to be awake all night for his shifts, it’s still been a bit of an adjustment to try and sleep consistently during the day so he could be awake with Minhyuk at night. “Don’t think I’ve completely woken up yet.”

“Aw, poor honeybee,” Minhyuk coos into his ear, and Jooheon fights a small shiver that wants to erupt through his body. He doesn’t recall exactly when the other had started calling him the pet name, but Jooheon really, _really_ likes it—probably to an embarrassing degree. He feels Minhyuk place a chaste kiss on his cheek, right where his dimple sits, before continuing with: “You could go back to sleep, if you want. You don’t work tonight, right?”

“I don’t,” he replies. He finishes washing his plate, walking a few steps to his right to place it in the dish rack while Minhyuk toddles behind him without detaching. “I suppose I could. Want to come with me? We could snuggle.”

Minhyuk’s husky voice sounds apologetic as he says, “Sorry, I can’t—at least not for a few hours. I have to go meet up with someone for the Prince.”

Jooheon tries to fight a pout, but fails. He maneuvers back to the sink, Minhyuk still behind him, as he quickly starts washing up his fork and knife. “Why do you guys call him the ‘Prince’, anyway? Not like he’s royalty, or something,” he mumbles. Minhyuk still hasn’t gone into extensive detail about his job and truthfully, Jooheon really hasn’t brought it up much. But, from what Minhyuk has told him, his boss is a complete asshole. “Can’t you take the night off?”

“I would if I could,” says Minhyuk, voice soft, “but my hands are tied. I promise after I’m done I’ll come home and snuggle you into oblivion, okay?”

Jooheon turns off the water, shaking the droplets from his hands. He turns his body around, forcing the blond to detach from his back and let go of his belt loops, allowing Jooheon to look at him. He crosses his arms, creating a bit of distance between the two of them. “Do you remember what’s happening in a couple of hours?”

Minhyuk furrows his eyebrows. “No, what’s happening?” Jooheon’s mouth falls open in complete disbelief and instantly, Minhyuk grins and begins to laugh. “Oh my God, I’m kidding! I know it’s your birthday. I gave you your present early, remember?”

He glares half heartedly at the teasing. “Duh, of course I remember,” he replies. Minhyuk had bought him an iPhone 11–it was a little hard for him to accept the expensive gift, but Jooheon desperately needed a new phone since his had been stolen during the mugging. Once Minhyuk indicated it could be for his birthday gift, he begrudgingly accepted it with a bright red face. Minhyuk had called it cute. “I wasn’t mentioning it because I wanted or needed a gift—I was just hoping I could spend it with you, is all.” As soon as he finishes the sentence, he feels his face grow red, yet again. _Ugh_.

Minhyuk smiles at him, raising his large hands to rest on Jooheon’s cheeks, his thumb rubbing over his cheekbones. It takes a lot of willpower for Jooheon to not melt into a puddle—he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get used to seeing the beautiful man up close. Minhyuk still looks like a painting of a God that walked off the canvas—it can be a little overwhelming.

“I know. I wish I could be here the whole night, but I can’t,” says Minhyuk, still stroking over his skin. “I’ll try and get done as soon as I can and come straight back.”

A part of Jooheon wants to be mad, but truth be told, it’s hard to feel that way when Minhyuk looks at him like this—like there’s nothing else in the world he’d rather be looking at. “Okay,” he nods. Minhyuk continues to smile at him before the blond leans forward and presses a kiss to his lips.

The sigh of contentment Jooheon releases is involuntary as he uncrosses his arms and presses his lips back. Minhyuk’s lips are chilly, but still soft and the feeling of them is so utterly pleasant. He reaches out with his hands, gripping into the expensive material of Minhyuk’s grey Armani dress shirt. He tilts his head while he pushes his body against the other’s, Jooheon poking out his tongue to try and sneak it between Minhyuk’s lips to deepen the kiss. His attempt is completely futile, as not even a second later, the older man pulls away, slipping his hands down from Jooheon’s cheeks to settle on his shoulders.

“I should get going so I can get back quicker,” says Minhyuk, his voice sounding a bit sheepish.

Jooheon wants to scowl, but manages to hold it back. He shouldn’t try and discuss this lack of physical contact issue now, even if he feels a little bit rejected. “Fine,” he replies, voice neutral.

The blond leans forward to press a short kiss on Jooheon’s forehead. “Don’t sulk. We’ll continue when I’m done with work, ‘kay?” When Minhyuk pulls back, Jooheon can’t stop himself from raising his eyebrows.

“_Really_?” He ask slowly, voice incredulous.

Minhyuk chuckles, kissing his forehead once more before taking a step back. “_Really._” Minhyuk mimics his tone with a grin. He walks away and out of the kitchen, Jooheon following him as he grabs a leather satchel that had been sitting on the velvet couch, swinging the long strap over his head to settle it across his body. Once he gets over to the door, he turns around to Jooheon with another smile before saying, “Be back in a bit.”

Jooheon nods at him and locks the door once Minhyuk exits. He stands stagnant in his spot for several minutes, his mind trying to decide what he wants to do, before he finally settles on something. If Minhyuk said they were going to _continue _once he gets back home, Jooheon is going to ensure that happens.

And he’ll just have to seduce Minhyuk before he’s able to find an excuse to stop.

☼

Minhyuk releases a loud sigh as he sits, impatient. He is currently sitting in a booth of an upscale cocktail bar, located somewhere in the middle of downtown LA. It’s a pretentious looking place, covered in a mass of dark colors in an attempt to look mysterious, ornate furniture with frames made out of black steel and red leather cushions. The people who come here appear to be those who simply want to be able to say they could afford it, dressed from head to toe in designer clothes, dripping with diamonds and arrogance—and unfortunately, Minhyuk blends in well with this crowd, though he can’t say he’s proud of that fact.

He taps his fingers idly against the glass of his gin and tonic (which cost him over forty dollars—not that he couldn’t afford it, but the price is just as ridiculous as the whole establishment), his chin being pillowed by his palm. He only stops his impatient tapping to check the time on his watch, realizing he has been waiting for his guest for over thirty minutes.

He releases another sigh, this one sounding much more annoyed as he leans back into the booth, fishing out his phone from his pocket to text Jooheon. At this rate, he wasn’t going to be home anytime soon.

**[Minhyuk 11:42pm] **Hey. I think I might be later than I thought :( I’m sorry!! I’ll come home as soon as I’m done I promise

He sends off the message and waits for Jooheon to reply. It comes quick enough, but all Minhyuk receives is a thumbs up emoji in response—which means Jooheon is definitely sulking. Minhyuk blows a tuft of his white blond hair out of his eyes, shoving his phone back into his pocket and proceeds to tap his fingers against his glass yet again.

A few minutes pass and finally, a figure approaches his table. Minhyuk glances up, eyebrow raised as he leans to rest his cheek against his palm.

“Took you long enough, Yugyeom,” he sighs.

Yugyeom grins down at him, rocking back and forth on his heels. “Sorry, sorry! This is the type of place that seems like you need to be fashionably late to—just wanted to fit in,” he says brightly in his high toned voice.

Minhyuk rolls his eyes, taking Yugyeom’s appearance quickly in. His face looks young, he had probably been embraced during his early twenties, with wavy, sand blond hair atop of his perpetually grinning face. He’s tall and slim, dressed in a baggy black t-shirt that billows out before it’s tucked into his dark jeans. He has several accessories, include a long, dangling earring, paired with a stud on the opposite side, a set of platinum dog tags on his neck and several bracelets. He looks like he’s trying too hard to fit in with the young crowd.

“Well, gonna sit down?” Minhyuk finally asks, motioning to the empty seat across from him as Yungyeom continues to rock on his heels.

“Mm, hang on—lemme get a drink first.”

Minhyuk opens his mouth to protest, but before he can, the Kindred is already walking across the large room to the bar on the opposite side, clearly showing he has no care in the world. He glares at his back, slumping against the back of his seat, grabbing his own drink and taking a large swig from it.

This is what he hates about working with other vampires—he’d rather work alone. Some Kindred do live in covens and with everyone being a member of a bloodline, there are ties that are naturally made between them. However, Kindred are solitary creatures when it comes down to it, Minhyuk included, for multiple reasons. For starters, the more vampires that are together in one spot, the easier it is to be spotted as something out of the ordinary if they aren’t careful, which would lead to problems if the wrong people took notice.

But most importantly, many Kindred tend to lose a large part of their humanity as soon as they’re embraced, and in turn, their empathy. Nearly all of those who Minhyuk has met have been completely self serving, only helping others if there is something to gain for themselves. There is truly little to no kindness amongst his community and, truthfully, Minhyuk wouldn’t trust most Kindred as far as he could throw them, regardless of his supernatural strength.

Yugyeom happened to be no different, but he always housed useful information and Minhyuk was forced to work with him fairly often. The man was nice enough on the surface, but he was also a Mekhet. Mekhet happened to be a clan of vampires that used their gifts to find and horde information. They are the eyes and ears of city, knowing about all the things that happened amongst the undead, as well as the living. The entire group thrives off secrets, using what they know to sometimes benefit others, but mostly themselves as they know the information they harbor can be ridiculously valuable to the right buyer. Minhyuk has never met a Mekhet who gave their knowledge for free or without a catch and Yugyeom is no exception.

Minutes pass and eventually, Yugyeom heads back to Minhyuk’s booth, a martini glass in hand with a bright pink liquid sloshing around inside it. He settles into the plush seat across from Minhyuk, his grin still in place.

“You seem pissy,” chirps Yugyeom, taking a dainty sip from his martini before setting it down on the table and taking a long finger to trace around the rim of the glass.

“Me, pissy? Never.” Minhyuk smiles tightly. “I love spending my night waiting for someone whose a half hour late, don’t you?”

The blond laughs loudly. “Only when the company is as pleasant and pretty as you, Min. Did you bring my money?”

_Always about the money_, Minhyuk thinks to himself as he snorts out loud. He reaches into his leather satchel that is sitting next to him in the booth and grabs out a white envelope, which is practically bulging with bills. He sets it on the table, resting it under his hand. “Only if you brought what I needed.”

Yugyeom’s dark eyes look eagerly from the envelope and then back to Minhyuk. “Of course! Have I ever _not_ delivered?” Minhyuk doesn’t reply as he watches the other Kindred sit up enough in his seat to dig out a crumpled paper from his back pocket and tosses it across the table. “There you go—special delivery for the Prince.”

Minhyuk grabs the paper and unfolds it, seeing that it has a date and address scribbled haphazardly across the middle in Yugyeom’s messy hand writing. Jinyoung never told him what this information was for, just that he was to retrieve it—he has no doubt that he’ll probably be ordered to do something regarding it in the future, though. He always gets dragged into the Prince’s schemes one way or another.

He refolds the paper before putting it safely into his bag. “Alright, here’s the other half that you were owed—it’s all there,” he says, finally sliding the envelope across the table and watches as Yugyeom eagerly opens it to count its contents. The expression reminds Minhyuk of a kid on Christmas.

“Perfect!” Yugyeom grins after a moment, appearing satisfied. He takes another sip from his drink, placing the martini glass back down, before starting to scoot out from the booth. “Well, it’s been fun, Minhyuk. Don’t be a stranger—my bank account would be sad without you.”

“Wait,” calls Minhyuk, reaching out a hand to stop him and making the other pause. “There’s something I wanted to ask you—you got another minute?”

Yugyeom quirks an eyebrow at him, slowly settling back into his seat. “Maybe. How much is it worth to you?”

He rolls his eyes at the question. “A fair share if you can help me. If you can’t—zilch.”

“Okay, my interest is marginally piqued! Shoot.”

Minhyuk breathes a mental sigh of relief, though he should have known Yugyeom would listen if there was money on the line. He turns back to his bag and grabs out a leather bound sketchbook, setting it on the table. Yugyeom looks at him curiously as he starts to flip through its pages, before stopping somewhere in the middle.

Two sketches are splayed out on either side of the pages. One shows a portrait of a gaunt, sallow looking man in his late twenties, a bald head and neck tattoos. The other is of a slightly older man, either in his late thirties or possibly younger, but aged from drug use, cheeks sunken in and a jagged scar across the top of his head that cuts into his cropped hair. In the corner of the pages, there’s a break down of other defining information, such as skin and eye color, approximate height and where they were seen last. He flips the book around so the sketches are facing Yugyeom and slides it across the table.

“I’m trying to find these two men—any chance you’d be able to see if you can find them for me?”

Yugyeom blinks, looking down at the pictures. He doesn’t answer his question, but says in some disbelief, “Holy crap, did you draw these yourself? Man, they look crazy real! I guess you Toreadors are good at some things, huh? Not that art is useful, but whatever.”

Minhyuk ignores the jab and the compliment. “Is it enough to go on to try and find them?”

Yugyeom tilts his head from side to side, taking in the images. “Hm, maybe. Are they human?”

“Yes, both human,” he answers. “Drug users, I think, and probably have a criminal records. I’m trying to find out names and where they live. Can you help?”

Yugyeom looks back to Minhyuk, looking at him with a searching stare. “This isn’t something Camarilla related, is it. It’s personal,” he deduces as Minhyuk looks on, keeping his expression neutral. “Why do you need to find them?”

“Does it matter?” Asks Minhyuk, nonchalantly raising his glass to his lips.

“No, but it makes me curious,” says Yugyeom, grin sliding back into place. “What could these weak little humans have that you could possibly want?” Minhyuk finally drinks from his glass, raising his eyebrows at the other, but says nothing. “Ugh, fine, don’t tell me. I can look into it—but for a price.”

“I’ll pay double of what Jinyoung paid if you can find them.” Yugyeom pops his mouth open in surprise and the somewhat genuine look makes Minhyuk bubble out a laugh.

“_Seriously_?” The blond asks him, leaning forward and studying Minhyuk’s face intently. “It’s worth that much to you? Why?”

Minhyuk smiles at him, canting his head to the side and narrowing his eyes. “Because revenge is priceless.”

☼

There are a few things that Jooheon has noticed over the past couple of weeks which are a direct result of the vampire blood incorporated into his own veins that are definitely…strange.

The stab wounds on his stomach completely healed over—there are no signs of scars or even any proof that the deep cuts had been there to begin with, all Jooheon has is the memory of them. His skin has also become completely flawless—he hasn’t had a zit pop up in the twelve days since this whole ordeal had started which is a weird perk, but he can’t say he’s complaining. The blood has also seemed to correct his usually poor vision, as he doesn’t find himself squinting as often when he’s looking at things far away (which is great, on account he ran out of contacts months ago).

These small changes are what he has noticed so far. Kihyun had mentioned that the longer he takes Minhyuk’s Vitae, the more changes he might feel, but for now it’s minimal as so much of the blood he had been given was used to heal his wounds. He may have more of a reaction when he receives it again at the end of the month, but for now he’s thankful that there hasn’t been anything scary from its effects.

As Jooheon prepares for Minhyuk to come home, he can say he’s honestly happy his skin is blemish free and glowing. He doesn’t know what he should do to seduce a vampire, but trying to make himself as irresistible as possible, he figures, is a good start.

Shortly after the blond had left, he himself left the apartment and headed to a 24-hour drugstore nearby to pick up some supplies. When he exited the store twenty minutes later, he left with a plastic bag in hand, holding a myriad of items including body wash, lotion, shaving cream, razors…along with lube and condoms.

Once he was safely back home with his purchases, he set to work. He took a long shower, shaving himself from the nose down to ensure every inch of his skin felt soft and smooth to the touch. Since Minhyuk’s nose was incredibly sensitive, he passed on the normal cologne he would wear in situations like this and settled for mild smelling body wash that smelt very slightly of peppermint, using it to scrub himself thoroughly.

During the process, he ended up working himself up into a tizzy, the prospect of _finally_ being able to move his relationship with Minhyuk to the next level overwhelming him to the point that the shower ended with him leaning against the tiles, panting heavily amongst the steam as he got himself off, thrusting into his own hand while he fingered himself almost frantically with the other. It was a little embarrassing, but he was home alone and hopefully it would help him last longer later. His pent up sexual frustration probably wouldn’t bode well for his stamina, which (if he’s _completely _honest with himself) was never amazing to begin with.

After his little ‘self love’ session, he left the shower to blow dry his hair in the bathroom’s giant mirror. He debated back and forth between styling it or putting on some liner and eye shadow, but ultimately thought against it. He settled for simply brushing his hair, letting it rest in its natural place against his forehead.

The next struggle was what he should—or perhaps _shouldn’t_—wear. He has the intention of waiting for Minhyuk in the giant bed, but how should he dress? He thought initially he would remain naked under the sheets, unfurling them off his body as soon as Minhyuk entered the room, but the idea of it made him flush to the roots of his hair and it was immediately tossed out the window. Then he thought he’d just put on his boxer briefs, but that made him feel self conscious too. Finally, he decides to wear the set of emerald-green pajamas Minhyuk had loaned him when he first came there, which eventually became his, and sits himself under the covers. And he waits.

And waits.

_And waits_.

It’s already been two hours since it became Jooheon’s birthday. Minhyuk _still_ isn’t home and he’s beginning to get increasingly impatient. At some point, his frustration turns into exhaustion and without his knowledge, he ends up nodding off. He only realizes it has happened when he is woken up by a cool hand pushing through the locks of his hair and a set of lips pressing a light kiss onto the bridge of his nose.

He blinks blurredly at Minhyuk, who stands over him from the side of the bed in all his glory, smiling down at him in adoration as he continues to run his fingers soothingly through his hair. “Took you long enough,” he mutters, closing his eyes and leaning his head into the hand as he lets himself be petted.

“I’m sorry,” murmurs Minhyuk, Jooheon opening his eyes to see his smile turn apologetic. “The guy I was meeting was late and then I had to deliver something to Jinyoung. I just got back.”

Jooheon hums, closing his eyes again. “Are you coming to bed?”

“In a minute. I want to take a bath first.”

Jooheon’s head is still hazy from sleep, so he doesn’t protest when Minhyuk parts from him with a kiss on the forehead and heads to the bathroom. He only realizes his original plan has been thwarted, at least temporarily, once the door closes behind the blond.

He groans in his head, careful not to express it out loud as the man’s ridiculously good hearing would instantly pick it up and think something was wrong. He does smack his fist down onto the mattress in frustration, though, as he flops onto his back to stare angrily at the ceiling.

_I’m the worst seducer in the fucking world_, he thinks to himself, annoyed. He had hoped he would be so irresistible that Minhyuk would just _throw _himself at him, but instead, all the older man did was pet his hair for a moment before taking a fucking bath.

And of course the bath isn’t a quick one. At some point, Jooheon thinks that Minhyuk has drowned in there, when he realizes that Minhyuk couldn’t drown even if he wanted to (which is good, obviously, but not the point). He spends the time staring at the door, getting more antsy as the time passes, tapping his fingers rhythmically against his leg over the covers.

After what feels like an eternity, the blond man emerges from the bathroom. Jooheon opens his mouth to complain on how long it took him, but his voice gets caught in his throat because Minhyuk is clad only in a bright white towel, sitting so low on his narrow hips that if it dropped only an inch lower, Jooheon would be able to see the root of his dick and his mouth waters embarrassingly at the thought.

If Minhyuk notices Jooheon’s obvious gawking, he plays it off coy as he barely glances at him when he walks into the bedroom and over to his armoire, bending low to dig through one of the drawers at the bottom. Jooheon’s eyes are glued to him as he goes, lips parted as he takes in the expanse of Minhyuk’s defined back. The man isn’t buff by any means, but the lean muscles he has are beautiful, casting shadows of definition here and there in the dim lighting of the room. Jooheon’s eyes were tracing the line in the middle of his back in a daze when Minhyuk’s husky voice breaks him from it.

“I can literally _feel_ you staring at me,” he laughs, turning around to look at Jooheon with a set of navy silk pajamas in hand. He’s smiling at him knowingly as Jooheon feels himself blush, glancing down at the bed to try and hide his flushed face. “Enjoying the show?”

Jooheon mutters something noncommittal under his breath, his cheeks feeling like they’re on fire. He can feel that he’s half hard from just looking at Minhyuk’s half naked body in front of him— but he can’t _help_ it. He truly loves everything about Minhyuk, inside and out, but his physical attraction to the blond is almost embarrassing. Minhyuk is gorgeous to the point that it’s ridiculous, with his pretty face and perfectly proportioned body. The sight of it makes Jooheon’s heart beat like a heavy drum in his chest and he doesn’t know what to do about it.

He becomes so lost in his thoughts that he jumps in surprise once Minhyuk joins him on the bed atop of the covers, crawling from the bottom up clad in his silk pajamas. The older man settles about a foot away from him, laying on his side with his head propped up in his hand as he looks at Jooheon with a steady gaze.

“Your heart sounds like it’s about to explode,” comments Minhyuk, tilting his head, the corners of his mouth turning upwards. His voice sounds teasing. “I could hear it in the bathroom, you know. What’s on your mind?”

Jooheon glares half-heartedly at the question. Minhyuk knows _exactly_ what’s on his mind and he has the audacity to tease him about it. In a surge of confidence, Jooheon tosses the blankets off of himself so he can crawl the short distance over to Minhyuk, pushing the man onto his back and moving to straddle his hips.

“You know what I’m thinking about,” he accuses, shoving Minhyuk’s arms to his sides so he can pin them there as he leers over him, eyes narrowed. Minhyuk, even though he could easily fight Jooheon’s grip with his superior strength, just lays there with a quirked eyebrow, looking slightly amused. “You said we could continue once you got back, so…You’re back, let’s continue.”

Minhyuk blinks. “Hm? Continue what?” He asks, the feign of such obvious innocence annoying Jooheon.

“You _know_ what!” He hisses as Minhyuk continues to smile at him. “Ugh, you’re so annoying sometimes. I want to continue _this_, you ass.” And as soon as he finishes, he surges forward to capture Minhyuk’s mouth in a bruising kiss.

The man below him makes a quiet, satisfied moan as he easily slips his wrists from Jooheon’s grip without a struggle, moving his hands up Jooheon’s thighs and sneaking behind to knead lightly at his ass. Minhyuk parts his lips for him and Jooheon doesn’t hesitate on diving forward, licking immediately into his mouth as if his life depends on it. He slides his own hands up Minhyuk’s abdomen and stops once he reaches his shoulders that he grips onto heavily.

Their kiss is desperate, teeth clashing together as their tongues continue to explore and battle each other aggressively. Jooheon has been waiting for this for so _long_, he doesn’t want to give Minhyuk a moment to think about possibly stopping.

Jooheon parts from Minhyuk for a quick breath, turning his head to the other side to capture Minhyuk’s lips again. He moves one of his hands down to Minhyuk’s narrow waist for support as he starts undulating his hips down, grinding their crotches together with the friction he desperately needs. The sensation makes Jooheon release a needy moan before he can stop it, the sound quickly eaten up by Minhyuk as he feels the man grip harder with his large hands still on his backside, pushing Jooheon’s lower body even further into his own.

The grinding is making Jooheon whine in the back of his throat. The sensation is so much but still not nearly enough and he wants_—needs_—more. He pulls back, only far enough for their mouths to part and he finally opens his eyes that he had been keeping sealed shut. Minhyuk is looking at him, eyes dark and lips parted slightly as he stares directly into Jooheon’s gaze and Jooheon _wants_.

“Oh my God, just fuck me, please,” groans Jooheon, moving forward to kiss Minhyuk again and he feels Minhyuk’s hands twitch at his bottom and there’s another twitch under the thin fabric of his pajamas.

Not even a second passes before Minhyuk stills. “Jooheon, wait a second,” Minhyuk pulls away to say and as soon as the statement leaves his mouth, Jooheon moans in dismay, slapping his hand hard on the mattress next to Minhyuk’s head.

“Min, _why_?” He asks, voice desperate as Minhyuk’s strong grip moves to grab his hips and stills them, which only frustrates Jooheon more. “God, I’m so sick of this! You keep doing this to me over and over and _over _again! Don’t you want me?”

Minhyuk’s hair is tussled messily, his lips wet with Jooheon’s saliva as he looks at him, his eyes soft as he reaches out to touch his face gently. “Of course I do,” he says, voice soft but sincere. “I want you more than anything else, Jooheon, in _so_ many ways. It’s just that—.” He opens his mouth to continue, but stops a moment later, seeming to struggle for words.

“It’s just _what_?” He throws his hands up, leaning back and sitting down right on Minhyuk’s lap, directly on top of the hard length underneath. The pressure makes Minhyuk bite his lip, but he doesn’t say anything. “You’re just as into this as I am—you always are, but you always make an excuse to stop before anything progresses and you never even fucking tell me why! How can I not think that you don’t want me?” The anger in his voice falters towards the end as he slumps his shoulders, looking down as he fidgets with a button on Minhyuk’s shirt with his fingers. “You say one thing but then do the opposite and I’m so fucking confused.”

“I’m sorry, Honeybee,” whispers Minhyuk. He watches as the blond raises himself up to lean back on his elbows, tilting his head to capture Jooheon’s gaze. “I didn’t mean to make you feel that way, but I get why it did—it’s just,” he pauses, sighing. “It’s just that this is hard for me—I’m…I’m a little scared.”

Jooheon blinks. “Scared? Of what, me?”

Minhyuk chuckles short. “Not of you, of me,” he speaks quietly, turning his gaze to the side as he stares off, past Jooheon’s shoulder. “Do you remember what I told you about the reason I—abandoned you at the club?”

Jooheon frowns at the memory, but takes a moment to answer once Minhyuk looks to him again. “Because you said you almost bit me.”

“_Exactly_,” Minhyuk urges. He sits up fully, making Jooheon slip back a bit on his hips as Minhyuk raises himself to be eye level with him, his mouth pursed into a thin line. “That scared me. I didn’t—_don’t_ want to hurt you by accident and when we get…close like this, I seem to lose my head and common sense. That feeling completely freaks me out—what if I do something to you when that happens? I could never forgive myself, Jooheon, I couldn’t.” His voice wavers at the end as he frowns, looking down at Jooheon’s chin as he tries to collect himself. The sight reminds him of when they had been back in this very room two weeks ago, when Minhyuk struggled to tell him what he is and why he made the decisions he had because of it.

He releases a shaky breath, reaching forward to slip his pointer finger under Minhyuk’s chin to make him look at him. He closes the distance briefly, covering the blond’s lips softly with his own, before parting and looking into Minhyuk’s eyes. “Min, I trust you.”

“But what if—.”

“_Minhyuk_,” he says sternly, and the man stops. “I trust you. I know you would never do anything to hurt me. And if you bit me by accident? Big deal—not like it would kill me. Kihyun told me that Changkyun feeds off him all the time and that sort of thing is normal between ghouls and their vamp partners, so I know you’d be safe anyway.” Minhyuk frowns at the statement, but says nothing, allowing Jooheon to continue. “You should also remember that you stopped as soon as I said something when it happened back at the club, so I know you’d be able to stop again. If you do anything that makes me afraid or uncomfortable I’ll tell you and you’ll stop—it’s not a problem for me. Just,” Jooheon stutters, gripping Minhyuk’s silk shirt tightly in his fists, “just _please_, Minhyuk. Don’t push me away like this. Please. I want you so fucking bad.”

There’s a breath of silence and Jooheon thinks for a moment that Minhyuk is going to reject him. But suddenly, his body feels weightless as he’s lifted quickly from Minhyuk’s lap and his back hits the mattress a second after, his eyes now staring at Minhyuk’s beautiful face from above. He looks at him a bit dazed as Minhyuk positions himself between Jooheon’s legs, his hand coming down to cup behind his knee and raising it to wrap around by his waist. It makes him gasp as the movement pushes their lower bodies flush.

“Promise me,” Minhyuk starts, sliding the hand down from his knee to slip it underneath Jooheon’s shirt. His stomach does flips under the touch, Minhyuk’s skin feeling warmer than usual from him soaking in hot water minutes before. The blond runs his hand over the skin, thumbing gently at the softness above his hip and the sensation covers Jooheon in goosebumps. “Promise me that you’ll tell me to stop if I do something that you don’t like, no matter how into it I may seem. I need to know that before I can do this—I haven’t…done something like this since the club and much longer before that. I don’t know how I’ll be if I get lost with this. Promise me, Jooheon. I need to hear it from you.”

He swallows thickly, Minhyuk’s touch setting his skin ablaze and his unwavering stare making his body want to quiver—not in fear but in anticipation. Was this finally going to happen for him?

“Yes,” whispers Jooheon, licking over his lips that had become so dry. “I promise.”

“Okay,” says Minhyuk, his mouth forming into a small smirk as he slips his hand back out to start slowly unbuttoning Jooheon’s shirt, button by button. “Oh, and Jooheon?”

“Hm?” He hums, heart hammering while he watches his skin being unveiled inch by inch.

Minhyuk leans forward, smirk still on his face until he sticks out his tongue to lick slowly over Jooheon’s pouty lower lip. “Happy Birthday,” he whispers and Minhyuk kisses him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh. I know this chapter isn’t the greatest, but I hope it was at least a little worth the wait. I ended up getting really sick with bronchitis over the holidays (every time I breathe it still sounds like I’m hoarding an orchestra of kazoos in my lungs) and I’m still not feeling great, but I tried my best to get this done because I wanted to post something like I said I would TT.TT 
> 
> I REALLY hope it was okay—I know I ended it in a bit of a cliff hanger, but I promise I’ll make it up with this scene’s continuation in the next chapter!!
> 
> A couple of quick things—nobody probably noticed, but I removed the chapter count. There’s no way I’ll be able to finish this in 15 chapters, and I’m not sure how long it’s going to be so I just removed it lol I think this story is going to end up being a beast that’ll probably continue on for a while...
> 
> Thanks to everyone who was patient with me to get this posted and for continuing to follow this story TT_TT This has gotten more attention than I ever thought it would—all the comments have been so wonderful I can’t thank you all enough!! I love all your faces!! Thank you for being so lovely.
> 
> All feedback, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!! I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday season and a happy new year!!! I’ll see you soon <3


	8. Firsts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: Smut.

Every time Minhyuk kisses him, Jooheon feels a myriad of different things. When he kisses him on the forehead—which he seems quite fond of doing—his chest is instantly fills with warmth. When he places a quick peck on his lips, normally after a comment about ‘how cute he is’, it makes him blush and wish to be covered in more.

But when Minhyuk kisses him like he is now—mouth parted wide, tongue sliding against his own as if he’s trying to devour him whole, Jooheon’s entire body quivers and shakes like he’s about to fall apart in the best way possible.

All of Minhyuk’s kisses are wonderful, but these in this heated moment are _definitely_ his favorite.

The blond finishes unbuttoning his green pajama top and slips it off without parting from him, Jooheon’s exposed skin being prickled by the cool air that makes his nipples harden. Minhyuk’s hand snakes up to deftly pinch one of the nubs with his long fingers, rolling it between the pads and drawing a quiet whimper from Jooheon before he could try stopping it. He feels the older man smirk against his mouth at the sound, sucking Jooheon’s lower lip into his mouth so he can bite it lightly with his teeth, pulling on it before letting it go.

Jooheon is left panting already, because unlike Minhyuk, he _does_ need to breathe once in a while and Minhyuk seems to realize he needs a moment as he pulls away to sit up on his knees. Jooheon’s mouth is parted as he looks at him, trying to catch his breath while the other smiles down at him, head canted as he starts unbuttoning his own top, never breaking eye contact with him as he unveils his perfect torso. He tosses the shirt off the bed as Jooheon’s eyes roam over his skin hungrily and Minhyuk let’s out a quiet laugh.

“Trying to eat me with your eyes?” Minhyuk asks, grinning playfully at Jooheon before he leans back down, kissing at his mouth that is sitting agape.

“Sorry,” responds Jooheon, although he is anything but. He moves his smaller hands to grab lightly at the uncovered skin of the older man’s sides and closes his eyes as Minhyuk slinks lower to mouth down his neck before adding: “It’s your own fault for looking like you do.”

Minhyuk laughs again and Jooheon feels it as he licks over his collarbones. “Is that a compliment I hear?”

“M…Maybe,” Jooheon stutters, because Minhyuk has reached his nipple and his body shivers as he feels Minhyuk breathe over the sensitive skin. He opens his mouth to try and say something more coherent, but the sound catches in his throat—Minhyuk now has his nipple in his mouth, tongue swiftly swirling around it, followed with a hard suck.

“_Oh_, I see.” Minhyuk mutters against the bud. Jooheon can hear the smile in the blond’s voice and when he parts from him, he sees it. He pulls away, hovering above yet again while the fingers on both of his hands creep down to slip into the waistband of Jooheon’s pajama bottoms. Minhyuk starts to pull them down his hips, underwear sliding with it, and the realization that the blond is suddenly going to see him fully naked makes him panic—he grabs the man’s wrists on instinct, stopping him before he’s able to think. Minhyuk blinks unevenly at him, mouth popping open in alarm and pauses his movements. “What’s wrong? Is this too far?” He asks, voice sounding incredibly worried.

The tone jostles Jooheon to his senses, quickly letting go of Minhyuk’s wrists as his face heats up in embarrassment. “Oh, no, sorry—I just—,” he stammers, trying to explain his sudden panic without sounding like a complete idiot. “I—I haven’t been naked in front of anyone in, like, forever and…well, I haven’t been able to work out in _months_ so things aren’t as toned as they could be, and—.” He had the intention to continue his panicked ramblings for several more sentences, but he stops dead in his tracks when he hears Minhyuk start _giggling _at him. “Hey!” he exclaims, blushing even harder, tucking his chin down to try and hide what is, no doubt, a ridiculously red face.

“Honeybee,” Minhyuk stops his giggling, leaning down to have his cool chest press flush against Jooheon’s. The contact makes him let out a shaky breath that he stops short by biting his lower lip—fuck, Minhyuk’s naked skin feels wonderful against his own. “Your body is _perfect_. It’s gorgeous—the prettiest.”

He flushes deeper, the comment making his heart race as Minhyuk’s compliments always do. “Stop it,” he manages, pulse in his ears. “You’re just saying that—my stomach is all soft. And—and my thighs are huge.” The blond’s expression turns—eyes narrowing at Jooheon in a dangerous way that makes him take a quick breath in alarm. “Uh—.” There’s a sharp, sudden pinch to his side that makes him yelp.

“I am _not_ ‘just saying’ anything,” says Minhyuk, voice low as he sits up and Jooheon can’t help but miss the feeling of the other’s skin. “Your stomach,” he starts, large hands roaming down to rub over the part in question—Jooheon’s eyes watching their decent as he swallows in anticipation, “is perfect the way it is. And your _thighs—_,” he continues, hands slinking lower and before Jooheon is able to register what is happening, those hands are sweeping down, removing his remaining clothes so fast it’s as if they’ve evaporated. Jooheon’s eyes widen comically at his sudden nakedness—his dick is sitting rock hard against his belly, tip wet and he’s fully on display, every inch of him. He’s frozen in a mixture of self-conscious embarrassment and excitement, so it takes a moment to react when Minhyuk cups his hand behind his knee to bend his leg up in the air in his strong grip. “Your thighs are a _gift_,” Minhyuk finally finishes and as if to punctuate his point further, his head ducks down to place an open mouthed kiss next to his knee.

“What—,” Jooheon hiccups, words lost as soon as he starts. Minhyuk moves up his inner thigh, their eyes connected as he sucks the sensitive skin harshly into his mouth and when he’s done, Jooheon’s left with a fresh bruise—the sight of it exciting him, the feeling making him moan and his legs quiver. And Minhyuk continues, leaving marked skin in his wake and by the time he’s made it to the soft skin of his groin, Jooheon is sitting there, his cock leaking precum onto his tummy that has started to trickle down his side. He’s a mess already and Minhyuk has barely touched him. 

“Do you believe me now?” Minhyuk asks him, biting at the patch near his throbbing erection which makes him jolt in need. All Jooheon can do is nod fervently, his smaller hands reaching down shakily to pull Minhyuk back up by the shoulders a second later to crash their lips together.

He digs his fingers into Minhyuk’s white-blond hair, licking deep into his cool mouth. He pulls away a moment later, pressing his forehead against the elder’s while he breathes heavily onto his face. “I want you—fuck, I want you so bad.”

“You have me,” Minhyuk whispers, pressing his lips shortly against Jooheon’s. Minhyuk isn’t breathing hard like Jooheon is, but he definitely looks as taken and excited as he himself feels. The blond glances around the bed for a moment before adding, “Do you have anything I can prep you with?”

His heart rate spikes at the question—which he’s sure Minhyuk can hear if his small smile is anything to go by—while he nods quickly. “Yeah—uh, I got some stuff earlier, hang on.”

He rolls, albeit begrudgingly, away to the other side of the bed, trying his best to not feel self conscious by his nakedness when he reaches out to pull the bedside table’s drawer open to grab out a small bottle of unscented lube and the box of condoms he had bought that night. Once he has them safely in his grasp, he shoves the drawer closed and turns around, only to now be greeted by the incredible sight of a completely naked Minhyuk, the blond sitting up on his knees, every part of him as gorgeous as the next with his thick cock sitting hard between his legs. While he drinks in the sight like water, he can’t help but wonder since Minhyuk thinks _Jooheon’s_ perfect, he has no idea what Minhyuk would be. Ethereal? God like? That’s probably pretty close.

Minhyuk tilts his pretty face, lip corners turning as he beckons Jooheon over. “Just gonna stand there, Honeybee?” Jooheon immediately clambers over as gracefully as a freshly born giraffe and the older man immediately laughs. “God, you’re too cute for words.”

“Shut up,” Jooheon snips with no bite, sitting up on his own knees, tossing the lube and condoms off to the side.

“Liar,” Minhyuk states, pulling Jooheon closer by a firm grip at the back of his neck. Jooheon nearly stumbles into him, but Minhyuk’s strength is there to still him, pulling Jooheon so close that their noses are touching, lips brushing as he speaks. “I know you like it when I call you cute,” he purrs and Jooheon doesn’t correct him, he only glances away. “See? You don’t deny it.” Minhyuk chuckles, hand moving deftly in between them to grip at Jooheon’s dick, which makes Jooheon instantly look back as his mouth falls open in a quiet gasp, Minhyuk giving him a few quick strokes that make him want to fall backwards. “Turn around for me—on your knees,” he finishes with a kiss, letting Jooheon go and Jooheon manages to fight back a whine that wants to bubble out at no longer being touched.

“Bossy,” he mutters out, even though deep down he likes being told what to do—especially in this situation. He turns around as ordered, Minhyuk smiling at him as he goes, trying his best as he can to keep his limbs from trembling at the knowledge of what’s to come and the thought of being exposed in such an intimate way. He faces the dark oak headboard, knees and palms sinking into the mattress as he hears the blond come up close behind him.

Jooheon digs his fingers tightly into the sheets when he hears the pop of the plastic bottle behind him as he tries to ground himself. He feels Minhyuk gently pry his thighs a little further apart, the position making Jooheon bend his upper body down to compensate with his ass in the air. His heart is beating in his ears when he finally feels Minhyuk’s fingers part his cheeks, rubbing across his entrance a few times before a long, gelled finger slides inside him slowly, stopping close near the knuckle and Jooheon whimpers at the feeling. It’s been so long since he’s had anyone inside of him, and the fact that it’s Minhyuk—the one he has been aching for for months—is overwhelming.

He feels Minhyuk’s other hand grab one of his cheeks, spreading it out as the finger pulls out slowly to push back in again and this time Jooheon moans—his hole was still stretched a bit from his time in the shower so it gives way for Minhyuk’s hand easily, the stretching sensation he expected barely there.

“Hm,” Minhyuk hums, finger in deep. And as if he read Jooheon’s thoughts, he comments, “Did you play with yourself before I got home?” Jooheon’s eyes widen, face promptly heating up at the question while the muscles tense in his arms. He’s too embarrassed at being caught to say anything. “You _did_, didn’t you,” Minhyuk accuses, sliding out his finger all the way. When he moves back in a beat later, a second finger has joined the first, both thrusting immediately to the knuckles—the sudden intrusion making Jooheon gasp out, falling forward onto his elbows. “Look at how easily you’re taking me—did you finger yourself, Jooheon?”

He moans in embarrassment and pleasure, pushing his head down into his forearms as Minhyuk starts pumping his fingers in a steady rhythm, massaging his walls in a tortuously good way. He starts rocking his body back, unable to help himself, meeting the digits half way in an attempt to feel more. “I…I did,” he stutters, Minhyuk’s pace quickening as soon as he speaks and Jooheon groans louder than he means to.

“Oh, naughty naughty,” Minhyuk teases, his hand not pausing as Jooheon feels the man’s firm chest press against his back, his husky voice in his ear. “What did you think about when you touched yourself?”

Jooheon bites his lip, eyes squeezed shut. Minhyuk asking him these things is turning him on more than he ever thought it could—the shame, embarrassment and excitement causing a lethal cocktail that’s rocking his world. He’s left leaking, precum dripping down onto the sheets below, every inch of him throbbing as he says, “Y-you,” the end piquing high as Minhyuk grazes his sweet spot with the pads of his fingers and he sees white.

“Me?” Minhyuk repeats. When he pulls back out, a third finger is added and the trio immediately thrust right into his prostate and Jooheon’s body stutters. “And what did I do to you, Jooheon?” He cries out as Minhyuk immediately picks up his speed, the thrusts becoming rougher and rougher and Jooheon is becoming a mess as he pulls desperately at the sheets. “Did I fuck you with my fingers like this?”

“Yes,” moans Jooheon at a particularly hard thrust.

“Hm…nothing else?”

The fact that the other man seems so composed is messing with his head. Leave it to Minhyuk to manage to hold up a filthy conversation, three knuckles deep inside him, while Jooheon can only manage one word sentences.

“N-no,” he suspires, his mouth open. If Minhyuk keeps this up he’s going to come before they’re even able to get started. “You did—fuck—you did more…Come on, Minhyuk!”

He hears Minhyuk hum again, body pulling back so he’s no longer pressed up against his back. He can’t see what the elder is doing, but he feels as he’s spread open, long fingers scissoring inside of him and Jooheon can imagine the blond watching how his fingers work him open. “Think you’re ready?” He asks, sliding back in and out easily with little to no resistance in his wake.

“Please,” is all Jooheon says, pressing his forehead into the mattress, lifting his ass further into the air and the sight alone appears to make Minhyuk let out a moan while he finally removes his hand, wiping it onto the sheets.

“Two seconds,” says Minhyuk. The sound of the condom box being opened, followed by the crinkling of foil makes Jooheon’s shoulders tense.

He waits, biting his lip as he attempts to get a handle on his excited breathing, the pop of the bottle of lube for the second time that night echoing in his ears. Time stills for him for a few, very long seconds before he feels Minhyuk line up, his lubed tip pressing up against his entrance.

“You ready?” Minhyuk sinks his fingers gently into his hips as he remains still, waiting for Jooheon to respond. He knows if he tries to speak, his voice will crack so he settles for a nod that he’s sure the blond can see. “Okay, tell me if you need me to stop,” Minhyuk speaks softly and Jooheon has the passing thought that he wishes he wasn’t on his knees—he wants to know what Minhyuk’s face looks like right now.

The thought is interrupted by Minhyuk breaching him slowly and it causes Jooheon’s breath to hitch. He knew that Minhyuk’s dick was big—he’s seen it up close, obviously—but while the length slowly fills him out, it feels massive and he has to bite his lip in an attempt to relax.

There’s a husky groan behind him. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” Minhyuk hisses, hand shifting from Jooheon’s hip to rub over the length of his back softly. “You gotta try and relax, babe.”

“I’m trying,” Jooheon chokes out, his head still pressed into the mattress and he squeezes his eyes shut again—Minhyuk still rubbing up and down his back while he remains in place. It doesn’t _hurt_, but the stretch he’s feeling is definitely uncomfortable and it’s making him contract his whole body. Minhyuk can’t be more than half way in and if he doesn’t settle down, he’ll never get any further.

Jooheon releases a shaky breath a minute or so later, finally getting his muscles to relax and his hole to unclench.

“There you go,” coos Minhyuk, his other hand coming up to grab at his waist as he slips in deeper. “Don’t worry, I got you.”

Jooheon whimpers in response, letting go of his lower lip in fear of drawing blood. When Minhyuk’s hips finally bridge the distance, he feels them press flush against his ass with no possible space left between them. He’s breathing heavily—he feels so incredibly full, Minhyuk filling out any spare space inside of him and he can’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment.

“Look at how good you are,” Minhyuk says, chest pressed to his back, breath passing by his ear. He can feel Minhyuk’s hands shake slightly as they move down to grip onto Jooheon’s soft hips, fingers dipping deep into his skin but to the older man’s credit, he doesn’t move, allowing him to adjust to the length inside of him. “You’re doing so, _so_ well, Honeybee.” The praise he says makes Jooheon want to moan—he wants to do well for Minhyuk, do anything he says so he can praise him even more. There’s a kiss at the nape of his neck. “Let me know when I can move.”

There’s barely a heartbeat that passes before Jooheon begs, “Please move, Min. I need—.” Minhyuk doesn’t let him finish as he feels him pull out halfway and thrust back in, making Jooheon choke on his words before he does it again.

“Oh my God,” moans Minhyuk, grip rough on his hips as he repeats the motion and Jooheon moans too. “I _knew_ you’d feel amazing—I—,” Minhyuk stops in the middle, jutting his hips forward to slap against Jooheon’s skin.

Jooheon’s mouth is open, an almost constant string of lewd sounds coming out as his body feels like it’s been set on fire. The stretch is still there, but as Minhyuk moves rhythmically inside him, massaging his walls and pressing in deeper, his body adjusts more every passing second and he can’t help but think he never wants it to stop.

“Fuck, don’t stop,” Jooheon voices his thoughts aloud, fingers digging back into the sheets and pulling at them hard enough they nearly rip in his hold as he pushes his hips back—he feels like he needs to hang on to something before his body falls apart. He had gone a little soft when Minhyuk had first entered him, but his cock is now sitting between his legs rock hard again as if it never left.

There’s a grip at the back of his neck as Minhyuk leans forward, picking up the pace even further, causing Jooheon to continue to rip at the sheets—the sound of skin slapping together in the otherwise quiet room, accompanied by the lewd noises coming from his own mouth that Jooheon can’t control was getting him to the point of no return.

Before Jooheon can even try and stop himself, his balls tighten and he comes untouched with a cry, releasing onto the sheets below in thick spurts.

Minhyuk’s body steadily stills behind him and it takes a minute for Jooheon to catch his breath before a wave of mortification consumes him. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” he says, voice a rush as he can’t even bring himself to raise his head. “I didn’t think that would happen so quick—I,” he pauses with a short hiss as Minhyuk slips out of him. Is he pissed? “I—it’s been a while, so my stamina isn’t—.”

He’s cut off by a set of hands grabbing him, flipping him over onto his back. He looks up in surprise, watching in a haze as Minhyuk looks down at him, his gaze intense and lips parted as he reaches to grab the lube, popping it open and coating himself thoroughly again as Jooheon stares, eyes wide, in surprised silence.

Minhyuk grabs the root of his cock, lifting Jooheon’s leg up that had been sitting limp to the side, and surprises him by bottoming out with a single thrust.

“Ah!” Jooheon exclaims, throwing his head back at the immediate spike of pleasure while Minhyuk falls forward, catching himself on his arms that are now on either side of Jooheon’s head.

“Do you think coming once is going to make me stop?” Asks Minhyuk, voice a deep rasp, snapping forward as he looks down at him, hips not stilling even once as he speaks and the headboard smacks loudly against the wall. “I’ll only stop if you tell me—do you want me to, Jooheon?”

It’s at that point that a perfectly aimed thrust hits Jooheon’s prostate and it makes him moan out loudly, shaking his head earnestly. “No,” he gasps, body over sensitive from his orgasm but quickly getting ready for more. He reaches up to grasp at Minhyuk’s shoulders, pulling the man down to rest on his forearms that now cage Jooheon’s head. “Never,” he whispers, looking up at Minhyuk’s gorgeous face with half lidded eyes as he pants against his lips—he feels himself beginning to get hard again between their bodies.

Minhyuk’s pupils are completely dilated, only the tiniest strip of brown around black as he licks over his lips. Minhyuk captures his mouth, tongue diving in as Jooheon whimpers, the blond’s hips pounding into him with enough roughness that makes his legs tremble. He wraps them around Minhyuk’s waist in an attempt to quell them, but also to bring him as close as he possibly can.

The kiss only breaks because Jooheon desperately needs the air. He’s sweating, body overwhelmed by what Minhyuk was doing to him as he starts to unravel like a messy ball of string. Minhyuk parts from him and kisses sloppily over to his ear where he licks across the shell.

“So pretty,” Minhyuk whispers and Jooheon shivers at the words. Minhyuk chuckles at his response—he would have blushed if all his blood wasn’t already either sitting on the surface of his skin or in his dick. The blond sucks his earlobe into his mouth before rolling it between his teeth. “Interesting kink you have here, Heonie.”

Jooheon whines, smacking the other’s back with his fist. “Quit—quit making fun of me,” he manages, which was a feat as Minhyuk’s thrusts have slowed down but each one is landed with such purpose that Jooheon uses all of his strength to stay put. He’s getting absolutely wrecked in the way he’s wanted for _months_.

“Just stating a fact,” says Minhyuk, pulling away from his ear to grin at him before stoping his movements, settling his hips flush against Jooheon. “You get off on me complimenting you—it’s cute,” he teases, hips staying in place as he undulates them in small circles. It makes Jooheon’s mouth fall open in a silent moan—Minhyuk’s tip is pressed right against his sweet spot and the sensation is making him tingle from head to toe. It’s as if his prior release is only a distant memory, because he feels himself getting close again.

“Minhyuk,” he croaks, rocking onto the length inside him as best as he can, but the lack of space between them making it nearly pointless. “Min, I’m close—so close. Please, I need it,” he begs, any sense of pride slipping through the cracks, biting at his lips as he looks up at the grinning face. There’s not a drop of sweat on Minhyuk, but Jooheon is covered in it.

“Admit it,” purrs the blond, leaning in close to let their lips brush against each other. He’s still torturing Jooheon with the barely there movement of his hips. “Admit you get off on it. I wanna hear it from you.”

Jooheon attempts to glare, but fails. He’s so utterly embarrassed at not only being called out on how Minhyuk’s praise affects him, but also being told to admit it out loud, that his lower lip juts out in a pout—he only stops when Minhyuk bites at it, but he still stays stubborn and says nothing.

“I got all night to wait, you know,” Minhyuk teases, a smirk playing on his lips as the hard length pulls out no more than a centimeter to push back in. Jooheon groans in annoyance—it wasn’t even close to enough.

He throws his head back to hit the pillows, digging his fingers into the skin at Minhyuk’s neck as he glares at him, desperation bubbling out and over like a volcano. “Fine! Yes, I fucking get off on it! I like it when you call me pretty and cute and gorgeous—I like when you whisper it all in my ear with that dumb, husky voice of yours. Are you happy, you dominant asshole?” As soon as he finishes, Minhyuk sits himself up, grabbing onto the back of Jooheon’s knees to push them against his chest and pulls himself all the way to the tip to plunge in to the hilt. He gasps out at the impact, eyes wanting to roll back in his head.

“Very happy,” says Minhyuk softly, smile still on his lips as he watches Jooheon come undone below him. “I love watching you like this—completely overwhelmed by everything I do to you. I make you feel good, don’t I?” He asks, angling himself up so that every move is hitting his prostate over and over again.

“Yes,” he whimpers, closing his eyes in pure ecstasy as he finally gets what he needs. He reaches down to his neglected cock, gripping it to start pumping his hand desperately. He whines, arching his back, not stopping his hand as Minhyuk grips even harder at his thighs and speeds up—he’ll probably have finger shaped bruises later. “Close…so close,” he presses, voice high as he chases after his second orgasm.

“Come for me,” Minhyuk orders, raising Jooheon’s shaking calf to bite into it, licking over the skin right after. “Show me how good my cock feels inside you.”

The words push him over the edge and he spills over his hand and stomach, mouth falling open in a silent cry. His body tenses, stomach muscles clenching before going completely limp, hand releasing his softening cock and he opens his eyes to stare up at the ceiling in a daze—he almost feels dizzy. He has never came twice during sex before—he didn’t even think it was possible.

He’s unsure how long he lays there, but eventually it dawns on him that something incredibly stiff and long is still buried deep into his ass and he then realizes that through all of this, Minhyuk _still_ hasn’t come yet.

“Are you even _real_?” Jooheon croaks, his voice rough from his near constant moaning, looking at Minhyuk in complete disbelief and wonderment. “How have you not come yet?”

“Sheer willpower,” suspires Minhyuk, but his voice does sound a little bit strained and breathy as he lets down Jooheon’s legs. “I’ve been waiting for this for a long time, you know—I’m not ready to let it end yet,” he admits, slipping his arms underneath Jooheon to wrap around his waist. “Grab onto me.”

“What?” Jooheon asks, bewildered and exhausted. As he feels himself be lifted into the air, he throws his arms around Minhyuk’s shoulders, grabbing at his elbows as he’s pulled into a sitting position on Minhyuk’s lap, the blond still fully sheathed within him.

Minhyuk licks a stripe along Jooheon’s sweaty neck and talks into his ear. “One more time?” He asks, voice barely a whisper.

Like he would ever say no. Jooheon can feel a twitch inside him, his legs trembling on either side of Minhyuk’s lean body as he breathes out, resting his forehead onto the cool shoulder while he lets the other bear his full weight. A moment later, he swallows thickly before nodding once, and evidently that’s all Minhyuk needed to start moving again.

Jooheon feels like a rag doll. All of his strength is gone and he fully relies on the blond to keep him upright as he’s fucked into. Minhyuk grips his large hands onto Jooheon’s ass, spreading him apart and thrusts up hard, going even deeper—slipping in and out of him fast, he can tell Minhyuk is now trying to reach his own finish while he moans into Jooheon’s ear. It doesn’t stop the man from shifting his hips so now every single thrust ends up slamming into Jooheon’s prostate with such precision that his whole frame jerks each time.

He only has the strength to whimper while his dick unbelievably starts to stiffen against their stomachs—the abuse of his sweet spot driving him to this insane point he never thought was actually possible. Jooheon’s body feels tortured, his mouth is hanging open and if had more presence of mind, he would try and close it because he’s starting to drool on Minhyuk’s shoulder, but right now he couldn’t care less.

“You feel so good,” Minhyuk groans, one hand moving from his ass so he can grip into Jooheon’s hair, pulling him off of his shoulder to press their lips together. “You feel _so_ fucking good—you’re being so good to me.”

Jooheon whines in the back of his throat, their mouths melding together—he wants to hear Minhyuk talk to him like this forever. Hell, he never wants to leave this bed. As far as he’s concerned in that moment, Minhyuk can live inside him forever if he continues to make him feel this way.

But, all good things must come to an end. At some point, Minhyuk reaches between their bodies, using some of Jooheon’s cum from one of his prior orgasms to slick his hand so he can jerk him off, while every time Minhyuk moves his hips he’s still hitting that spot inside of him that makes his vision turn white behind his eyelids. When he climaxes for the third and final time that night, he doesn’t even recognize the noise he makes—all he knows is if his body wasn’t limp before, it’s definitely limp now as his eyes slip shut. He vaguely feels the hips below him stutter and then still with a quiet call of his name before his vision turns black.

He opens his eyes eventually and when he does his back is against the silk sheets, eyes staring up at the ceiling. He feels something warm and damp running across his body and he lifts his head just enough to find Minhyuk gently wiping a washcloth over his stomach and down his thighs.

_Did I black out_? He asks himself in astonishment, head falling back against the pillow. He can’t say that’s happened before—but he supposes that’s what a body does after orgasming three times in what was probably only an hour. It’s probably not meant to do that.

“You okay?” Minhyuk asks him softly a moment or two later, tossing the cloth off the side of the bed before he crawls over to look at Jooheon’s face. The man is biting the corner of his lip while he pushes Jooheon’s sweat-soaked bangs away from his equally sweaty forehead. The older man looks a little worried. “Was that too much? Did I hurt you?”

Jooheon manages the strength to shake his head immediately. No, Minhyuk didn’t hurt him; but he _did_ fuck him— “Dumb.”

“I’m dumb?” Minhyuk furrows his brow.

Jooheon let’s out an exhausted laugh—he hadn’t noticed he spoke out loud. “No—I mean, I think you fucked me dumb.”

Minhyuk snorts at that. “I have no idea if that’s a good or bad thing,” he says, though a smile is on his face as he pokes Jooheon’s cheek.

“It’s good—great, honestly,” he rambles, his voice is a little slurred while his brain steadily turns to mush. He doubts he’s ever been this tired or sore in his entire life. “I don’t think my legs will ever be the same, but you know—worth it.”

Minhyuk bites at his lip to stop an embarrassed laugh short, before bending down to kiss the tip of Jooheon’s nose. “Worth the wait, then? Promise I didn’t hurt you?”

“Yes,” breathes Jooheon. _So_ worth the wait. “And you didn’t hurt me. You, uh, went all out though, huh?”

If Minhyuk was able to blush, Jooheon is pretty sure Minhyuk’s face would be red at that moment. “Uh, yeah, sorry—I got a little…carried away, I think,” he murmurs, looking at the sheets.

Jooheon wanted to tease the blond more, but anything he’s about to say is interrupted with a long yawn. “S’okay,” he says instead, eyes drooping a second later. “I liked it…_really _liked it, but can we sleep now? I think I’m gonna pass out if we don’t…”

A relieved chuckle meets his ears when his eyes finally slip shut. The comforter is placed over him and he feels a cool body press into his side under the covers, face nuzzling into his neck.

“Goodnight, Honeybee,” is the last thing he hears before sleep over takes him, comforted by the thin arms wrapped around his middle. There’s no place he’d rather be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Er, was that too much?? It was too much, wasn’t it? ^^;;; I know this chapter was short with basically no plot progression but it seemed like a good place to stop for now so...hope it was okay—smut is hard to write lol
> 
> Sorry for the delay between chapters again! I still wasn’t feeling great for a while, but I finally feel better and got some writing done!! Thank you for everyone’s patience while I got this done, you all are so wonderful 🥺
> 
> All feedback, comments and kudos, as always, are greatly appreciated and keep me motivated! Thank you to everyone who continues reading and I’ll see you all soon 💙💙💙


	9. Aftermath

When Jooheon falls asleep in his arms, Minhyuk stays awake. Initially it’s to listen to the sound of Jooheon’s heartbeat and rhythmic breathing, which he has always enjoyed hearing—it’s a comfort and always calms him, usually into his own eventual slumber. But this night, seconds turn to minutes and minutes soon turn to hours and he ends up losing time with his own thoughts while he listens and watches Jooheon sleep. He unfortunately has a lot on his mind.

He thinks about a few mundane things first, like when Jooheon’s body shivers in his sleep due to Minhyuk’s colder body temperature—which he resolves by tucking the comforter in between them as a barrier so their naked skin is no longer touching directly—that maybe he should pick up an electric blanket to help keep the younger man warm, or maybe a heated mattress. It would help prevent Minhyuk sucking up the other’s body heat like a sponge and make it more comfortable for Jooheon when Minhyuk wants to hold him close (which is always).

Similar things pass his mind before his thoughts drift to something darker and the thing that keeps creeping up from the back of his mind. Earlier that night after he had met with Yugyeom, Minhyuk went directly to Jinyoung’s office after to drop off the information he had received, but also to deliver some news of his own that he had been putting off for as long as he could—

He told the Prince about Jooheon and it had gone better than he had expected in some respects, but also much worse in others.

“I have a ghoul,” he had said, standing in front of Jinyoung who, per usual, was sat behind his desk in the dark room. He made sure to keep his posture and face as neutral as possible, making it seem as if he was talking about the weather instead of the person that had consumed most of his thoughts for nearly a year—he could never let Jinyoung know that, it would only be used against him for the other Kindred’s gain.

“_You_ have a ghoul?” Jinyoung had asked, voice incredulous and the expression on his usually serious face somewhat surprised. “I thought you said it was…what was the word you used— ‘Inhumane’, I believe?”

Minhyuk successfully kept the grimace he wanted to make off his face at the statement. He had, indeed, told the Prince that. He meant it, and honestly still does. Many ghouls, if not most, he has met throughout his years in this society were kept as something akin to pets or slaves. Completely controlled by their masters to do their bidding with little to no say in it as they were either addicted to the Vitae they were given or mentally controlled to a disturbing degree.

Some Kindred thought of ghouls as being a risk to their society, another possible link to have their existence be brought to light. But the many immortals who kept ghouls in their company maintained such a level of control over these poor people, the ghouls would never take the risk to try and divulge such information—it would jeopardize their life or their next fix, after all. They’re always kept in a constant state of being trapped between a rock and a hard place, with nearly no chance of true escape—what kind of life is that to lead?

It _is_ cruel to do that to anyone and the ghouls in these situations never seemed to have chosen that life for themselves—they were either tricked or manipulated. Because of that fact, Minhyuk never had the want to have one, but then the situation with Jooheon stumbled into his lap and to keep the other in his life, he was forced into the suggestion. He’ll never treat the orange-haired man like how he’s seen ghouls treated before (minus Kihyun, of course, but the brunette was certainly an exception as Changkyun loved him unconditionally), and Jooheon will always be a ghoul, truly in name only, even though he’ll have to consume his Vitae. But the fact he’ll have to convince most of the Kindred around him otherwise, makes him sick to his stomach. Otherwise, Jooheon could possibly be used against him if the Prince or someone else in the Camarilla realized what the man truly meant to him.

“Well,” Minhyuk had started, keeping his voice level and meeting Jinyoung’s unwavering gaze, “blood is getting more and more expensive to buy and harder to get—thought it’d just be cheaper this way to have someone to feed off of. Plus I’ll have someone to go out in the day time for me to do things I can’t. Seemed to be the smartest thing to do at this point.”

Jinyoung stared at him for several seconds and Minhyuk had feared that the elder Kindred had seen through his ruse, but thankfully he only chuckled. “Never thought I’d see the day—you have always tried to be so _righteous _in comparison to your peers. Now you’re just as damned as the rest of us, hm?”

When Minhyuk shrugged his shoulders as he had no other idea on how to respond, Jinyoung smiled at him, but the look was not kind. It never was. “Well, I suppose I should say welcome to the world of the _dark_ society you always try to avoid. We’ll make a proud Kindred of you yet.” The black-haired man had let out a loud bark of a laugh that made Minhyuk’s skin crawl.

The man took out a leather bound notebook from his drawer—the Prince still preferred paper over digital to hold information, but that was expected of someone from the early 1800s who never changed his ways—along with a platinum plated fountain pen which he held between his delicate looking fingers.

“What’s your ghoul’s name, then?” Jinyoung asked.

There was hesitation before Minhyuk answered. He was scared that in an attempt to try and be with Jooheon and keep him safe, he was in turn signing his life away. But regardless of his hesitation, he still replied:

“Lee Jooheon,” he said softly and he watched as the Prince scribbled the name into his book, the sound of the pen scratching against the paper echoing in his ears. Jinyoung had also asked about some other defining information, such as his again, height, weight, eye color...The more Minhyuk told, the worse he felt.

“Noted,” Jinyoung had said, placing a final dot on his page before closing the notebook with a loud snap and tucking it safely back into the confines of his desk.

He was excused after that, but when he was just about to reach the large white door to take his leave, Jinyoung called out to him which made him turn back.

“I want to meet him,” he had said simply. “This Jooheon must be someone interesting for you to make him your ghoul, right? It might be worth my time.”

Panic set in and all Minhyuk could manage was to nod and promptly leave the room. His mind had raced as he passed Jackson, who was standing in his usual spot on guard outside the door, and it didn’t stop after he was out into the crisp night air. He hadn’t known what Jinyoung was planning by wanting to meet Jooheon, but he doubted it would be good or be to Minhyuk’s benefit.

Minhyuk releases a quiet sigh through his nose, the scene replaying over and over in his head, trying to think of what he could have changed, but comes up blank. He never wanted Jinyoung to set eyes on Jooheon, but thinking of it now, it would have most likely been impossible in the grand scheme of things. If Minhyuk hadn’t have reported to the Prince about Jooheon, it wouldn’t have ended well for either of them, and with how relatively small their Society is, there’s no way he could keep Jooheon apart from it forever. He was too active in the Camarilla (completely against his own choice, mind you, but he is still tied to a 50 year contract that he is unable to break), Jooheon’s path with the Prince would have crossed eventually.

The only thing he has on his side is that time for vampires is perceived very differently than it is for the living. Months can pass by without even being noticed, and the older the Kindred is, the harder it is truly keep track of time—when time is forever infinite, it seems pointless to have a calendar. Minhyuk is guilty of this too if he isn’t careful—he only became more aware of how time passed for him due to how obsessed he became with Jooheon’s work schedule in the early months of the year.

But, because of this he’ll hopefully be able to keep Jooheon away from the Prince’s grasp for a while longer. It’s not as if Jinyoung would leave his ivory tower to simply meet him, anyway—or at least he highly doubts it.

_Am I ever making the right choices when it comes to you? I can never tell,_ he thinks to himself while he looks into Jooheon’s relaxed face. His pouty lips are parted with his breaths, his face a little puffy from sleep as he mushes his cheek into the pillow with his hair messy and tussled. It makes him look young, Minhyuk thinks, but as soon as the thought passes in Minhyuk’s mind, he realizes the fact that he _is_ young. The orange-haired man has only been twenty-five for a few hours, his whole life should be ahead of him. And yet, there Jooheon is, clinging to Minhyuk like he never wants to let go.

Minhyuk has always wished to be human again, but being with Jooheon has intensified that impossible wish even further. Everything about their relationship would be _so_ much easier. They would be able to go out in the daylight for coffee, go out to dinner, be able to have proper dates—_normal_ things any couple should be able to do.

Jooheon shouldn’t have to keep secrets that could jeopardize his life. He shouldn’t have to always feel cold next to him because Minhyuk has no body heat. He shouldn’t have to feel self-conscious and feel unwanted, because the person he wants to be with is afraid of sleeping with him because he may lose control and accidentally hurt him...

The decision to finally sleep with Jooheon had not been the easiest for Minhyuk. He feels awful that him avoiding the physical aspect of their relationship had clearly made Jooheon self-conscious and incredibly frustrated—but Minhyuk had been, and still is, scared.

They had _finally_ took their relationship to the next level, and thankfully, Minhyuk never felt the urge to bite Jooheon like he had been afraid of. However, Minhyuk had, yet again, lost his common sense and self control, fucking Jooheon over and over again until the man lost consciousness (it was only for a few minutes, but was still alarming nonetheless). Jooheon even had several bruises littering his hips from how roughly Minhyuk had gripped him once they were finished—Minhyuk should have been more gentle but he completely lost his head nearly as soon as they started.

When Minhyuk had still been alive, he admits to having had an affinity for rougher sex, regardless of whether he was on the giving or receiving end of it—he had even enjoyed some light BDSM. But he isn’t sure if that prior preference has to do with how he had acted when they slept together or if it’s the very nonhuman part of him that is always lingering beneath the surface triggered it…and not knowing the answer worries him a little.

Jooheon had appeared to have enjoyed it, telling him afterwards that it had been worth the wait (and, well, the younger man _did_ climax three separate times, so that was something to go by), and that at least relieves _some_ of the worry he’s feeling. But Minhyuk still thinks he could have done better—could have been gentler or softer. Jooheon deserves to be loved and treasured, and Minhyuk is scared that he didn’t make him feel that way.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly, kissing the top of Jooheon’s head and nuzzling his nose in his hair.

“Why?”

“Oh!” Minhyuk startles, pulling away and eyes going wide at the sound of Jooheon’s groggy voice—he had been so absorbed in his own thoughts that he didn’t realize the man had woken up. “How long have you been awake?”

“Not long,” says Jooheon, yawning shortly after with a stretch. Minhyuk watches as he shuffles around, turning to lay on his other side so he can tuck his arm under his head and look up at Minhyuk who is now laying perched on his side, resting on an elbow. He blinks a bit sleepily at him, before yawning again, mouth opening wide and eyes squinting into slits and it’s one of the cutest things Minhyuk has seen. “So, why are you sorry?”

Minhyuk was just about to coo over Jooheon when the question stops him. “Oh,” he says again, biting on the corner of his lip, eyes flickering around Jooheon’s face. “I’m just…sorry about last night.”

After the words pass his lips, Jooheon stares at him heavily for several seconds before the face falls faster than he’s ever seen it and the younger man instantly looks crushed. “Oh,” is all he says as he turns to look down at the sheets.

Panicking, Minhyuk shakes his head rapidly, rushing forward to take Jooheon’s face in his hands. “No, no, no that’s not what I meant!” He tries to do damage control, lifting Jooheon’s face to look at him. “Please don’t look like that, what I said came out wrong. I just mean,” he trails off for a moment, struggling to find the right words, before he leans forward, resting his forehead against the other’s so there no way he can avoid his gaze. “I think I was too rough with you yesterday—I lost my self control and just kinda went at you like an animal. That’s why I’m sorry; I should have been more gentle…I’m worried that I hurt you.”

Jooheon parts from him to pull his head back a few inches with his eyes narrowed. “_That’s_ why you’re sorry?” He asks, voice sounding somewhat incredulous, if not a little angry. Minhyuk bites his lip and nods short. This makes Jooheon snort without humor, flipping onto his back so he is no longer staring at him, but is now looking at the ceiling. “Does my opinion _matter_ to you at all?”

Minhyuk sits up to his knees with a start, the blanket falling off him while he leans his weight on both his palms as he tries to look at Jooheon’s face which is dutifully avoiding him. “What? Of course it matters to me—why would you think it didn’t?”

Jooheon snorts again, glancing at Minhyuk through the corner of his angular eyes. “Because you asked me yesterday if you hurt me. I told you no, because you didn’t. Then you _also_ asked me if what we did was too much. I told you I liked it, because I did. Now here you are, assuming whatever the fuck you want without even taking _my_ feelings into consideration.” He sighs heavily through his nose. “Did you think I lied to you, or something?”

Minhyuk shakes his head, feeling his hair flop around with how quickly he does. “No, I don’t. I—,” he stops, running a hand roughly through his hair as struggles to find words, yet again. “Consent is a huge thing for me. I feel like I should have asked you how you wanted to be treated sexually instead of just…doing whatever I wanted to you.”

Jooheon sighs loudly once more, turning his head just enough to stare at Minhyuk. “Min, we talked about it before, remember? I told you if you did something I didn’t like, I would tell you to stop. Did you hear me say _anything_ like that to you?”

Minhyuk breathes out, slouching back to sit on his haunches, fiddling with his hands. “No, you didn’t,” he says. “Sorry, I just panic sometimes. I’m so scared of losing or hurting you that I think my head starts making issues for myself.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” laughs Jooheon, the sound genuine. He turns his face to the ceiling again once Minhyuk looks up. “I’m going to say this to you, but I can’t look at you when I do, so, deal with it, okay?”

Minhyuk quirks a brow, though Jooheon doesn’t see it as the man has his dark brown eyes trained at some spot above him. “Okay,” Minhyuk agrees.

A beat passes and Jooheon releases a slightly shaky breath. “First off, you’re not going to lose me—I’m not going anywhere. Second…I told you before that I sort of—_like_ being dominated, so how you acted yesterday is kinda how I like things, okay? Being ordered around, or whatever and being manhandled a bit?” Minhyuk smells as the blood under Jooheon’s skin rushes to the surface and begins to paint his face pink. “I like that.”

Minhyuk bites his lip and can’t help himself when he says, “And you like being complimented and praised too, huh?”

“Shut up,” snaps Jooheon with a half-assed glare that he clearly doesn’t mean as the blush that spreads heads to his ears and down his neck. “What I’m getting at is that being gentle is fine, but being a bit rougher is too, got it? I’ll tell you when something is up. You weren’t even that rough to begin with.” Jooheon licks his lips before shifting back around to rest on his side, looking up at Minhyuk again. “But—did _you_ like it?”

Minhyuk smiles easily as he moves back down to lay next to the orange-haired man, faces level once again. He reaches out to tap Jooheon’s nose. “I did. A lot.”

A shy smiles slides into place on Jooheon’s face. “Good…We should do it again.”

Minhyuk chuckles, grinning a little. “Are you propositioning me, Honeybee?” He asks, tapping Jooheon’s nose again—he’s pretty sure the younger man is blushing down to the tips of his toes.

The other crinkles his nose at the tapping before his eyes shift over Minhyuk’s body, which is out on display since he came out of the covers. “…Maybe. Is it working?”

“Always,” Minhyuk grins and leans forward, kissing Jooheon softly. He feels Jooheon release a contented sigh, all tension leaving his body as he presses his lips back. They move like this for sometime, sharing gentle presses of lips before Jooheon slips a hand into Minhyuk’s hair and prods his mouth open with the tip of his tongue. Minhyuk parts easily for him, taking the tongue into his mouth and sliding it against his own as the kiss deepens, gets more passionate and soon they’re melding together heatedly as if they both need it to survive.

Minhyuk surreptitiously tosses the blanket off Jooheon before he moves his hand down Jooheon’s side, the body shaking a little from being exposed to the air as well as the gentle touches. His hand continues to travel down and over to kneed at Jooheon’s round ass, the mound filling out his large hand so nicely and he loves how it feels in his grip. Jooheon parts from him with a little gasp, looking at Minhyuk with an expression that could only be described as want when Minhyuk moves to slide his fingers to part the halves.

Minhyuk rubs his fingers up and down Jooheon’s crack, rubbing gently over his entrance as he feels the man’s frame shiver in his hold. The muscle feels a bit loose under his fingers—no doubt from their antics hours before. He dips the tip of his middle finger inside, the ring of muscles giving way easily by the light pressure. He watches Jooheon’s expression, how his eyes glaze over and when he releases a quiet groan, Minhyuk pulls his fingertip back out again, switching to tracing around the ridge of his entrance, which feels a little puffy under his touch.

“Is this okay?” He asks, keeping his voice soft due to their proximity. Minhyuk keeps their eyes locked as he dips back inside, this time with the tips of two fingers, excited by the fact that Jooheon still seems so stretched from before—he loves the fact of knowing it was _him_ that did this.

Jooheon nods at him, visibly swallowing and Minhyuk can feel how Jooheon’s erection pokes into his thigh. The tip is wet. “More than okay,” he whispers.

Minhyuk nods before pulling his hand back up and holding his pointer and middle fingers in front Jooheon’s mouth. He watches the younger man search his face for a few seconds before he licks his lips, parting them and letting Minhyuk slip his fingers inside his mouth. Jooheon swirls his tongue around the digits, taking them in to the knuckles before pulling back, coating them thoroughly in saliva, all the while staring at Minhyuk—the look Jooheon is giving him heads straight south, and Minhyuk feels his cock twitch.

“You’re dangerous, Honeybee,” he murmurs, letting Jooheon bob his head a few times more before he takes them out. He tugs Jooheon close, pulling his body so they are sitting flush against each other as they lay on their sides—he wants to make sure the orange-haired man can feel how hard Minhyuk is and if the gasp he hears is anything to go by, he definitely feels it. He wastes no more time, snaking his hand over Jooheon’s side and back down between his cheeks where he easily slips both slicked fingers inside.

Jooheon moans instantly, mouth parting with the sound as he takes Minhyuk so well. Not in the mood to tease, but rather in the mood to pamper, Minhyuk crooks his fingers after a few pumps, finding the bundle of nerves inside quickly and presses against it, loving how Jooheon moans loudly at the sensation, closing his eyes tight and rocking back. He’s so beautiful like this.

“Pretty, pretty,” Minhyuk coos, making sure every move of his fingers lands in the right spot and he doesn’t miss. He feels a twitch from Jooheon’s dick at the compliment, which makes him smile. He wonders if Jooheon could get off by his words alone—something maybe to try at a future time.

He leans forward to talk against his lips, fingers never pausing. “I love making you feel good—you’re so pretty like this. I could do this to you for hours, Heonie, did you know that?” Jooheon’s only response is to whimper, pressing his forehead against Minhyuk’s, eyes still closed and mouth parted as he breathes heavily.

Minhyuk doesn’t move his fingers as roughly or vigorously as the last time, but does move them with purpose. He probably could have taken Jooheon without prep, but he didn’t want there to be any risk of accidentally hurting him and truthfully, watching Jooheon react to every little touch is way to addicting to stop.

“You’re so sensitive,” he says, kissing Jooheon’s cheek while he adds his ring finger to join the others, feeling the rim accommodate smoothly to the extra stretch and the younger man shows no sign of discomfort by the additional intrusion, but simply pushes back into it. “Think you’re ready, Honeybee? Can you take me?”

Jooheon’s finally pries open his eyes, looking at Minhyuk with need and lust, he opens his mouth to say something, but as he does Minhyuk purposefully shoves his fingers in, making the man moan. “Ah—,” he cries, hips jutting forward into Minhyuk’s with a jerk and the way their erections rub against each other makes even Minhyuk hiss. “I can, I promise—please, Min,” he moans out.

Minhyuk removes his fingers and doesn’t miss the involuntary whine Jooheon makes when they’re gone. He smiles sympathetically at the other while he leans over the side of the bed where he recalls shoving the box of condoms and lube. He picks them up swiftly, grabbing a condom and ripping the foil open with his teeth as Jooheon watches him, having moved so he is now laying on his back. The man’s dick is settled hard and flushed against his soft belly.

“How do you want me?” Asks Minhyuk while he slides the condom over his erection and then coating it thoroughly with the gel. “I’ll do anything you like—just say the word.”

Jooheon’s face looks up shyly, as he seems to have caught Minhyuk’s eyes roaming over his naked body. “I want to see your face,” says Jooheon after a moment, voice soft and equally as shy.

Minhyuk’s entire being wants to explode—how could the world have created such a sweet boy and how has he landed so willingly into Minhyuk’s arms? “Then you’ll see it,” he replies, smiling down at him.

He scoots over, positioning himself between the thick legs and obediently without even being asked, Jooheon grabs them behind his knees to hoist them up and near his chest while his eyes never leave Minhyuk. He bites his lip at the sight, taking in the fact that Jooheon is fully on display for him—even his most sensitive parts and he can’t help but look at him with complete and utter want.

“Good boy,” he praises, watching how Jooheon’s legs flex at the words. He notices the small splattering of lightened bruises still littering the milky skin, and even though all he wants to do is dive in like he did before and grip him hard, he makes note to be careful and will try hard to not add anymore.

He lines up, head at Jooheon’s entrance, rubbing against it to spread around the lube, and to be sure that Jooheon was truly ready. When he’s greeted with a shaky exhale and a quick nod, he finally pushes forward, breaching the rim so he can enter Jooheon.

The orange-haired man moans at the sensation, and since there is no resistance as he pushes, he keeps going until the skin of his groin is touching Jooheon’s ass. Minhyuk chest bubbles out a groan—Jooheon is so incredibly hot around him and the way he feels the other clench is making him see sparks behind his eyelids.

He stays still for a few moments, sliding his hands up Jooheon’s legs to gently cup behind his knees, making Jooheon let go and allowing Minhyuk to keep them up. “I’m going to move, okay?” He asks, leaning down and looking into Jooheon’s face—he looks up at him, so open and vulnerable and ready. “If anything hurts, tell me.”

“‘Kay,” Jooheon nods, licking his lips and inhaling in anticipation.

Minhyuk bites the corner of his lip before pulling out a few inches steadily. When he pushes back in to the clenching heat, he moans, closing his eyes as the feeling overwhelms him—Jooheon feels incredible around him and a second later he does it all again.

He had gone without any real sexual contact for a minimum of fifteen years and until meeting Jooheon, it hadn’t been something he thought about missing or wanting. However as he sits there in that moment, fully sheathed in Jooheon and moving against him in completely bliss, he wonders how he could have lived without it. But, he’s sure it’s not the act itself he needed. It was Jooheon.

They build a rhythm, Minhyuk thrusting deep and hard inside Jooheon, making sure to angle himself just right so Jooheon is writhing underneath him every time he moves, crying out a jumbled mess and asking for more. And all the man’s moans are music to Minhyuk’s ears—he could listen to them for hours, and if Jooheon would let him, he probably would.

Jooheon is looking at him as he’s fucked, his eyes half lidded and mouth open in a constant string of noise and whimpers, and Minhyuk can’t help but fall forward, pressing Jooheon’s legs against his stomach and chest, folding him in half so that he can kiss him. He swallows down any sound that’s uttered while he licks in his mouth, making sure the thrusting of his hips doesn’t waver while he does.

There’s a gasp Jooheon makes at a particularly deep and well aimed thrust that makes him throw his head back, breaking their kiss. “Fuck,” Jooheon groans, eyes squeezing shut. “Minhyuk, I’m so close.”

Minhyuk pulls back, taking one of Jooheon’s legs to throw it over his shoulder, the other splayed open and limp off to the side, which makes Jooheon open his eyes to look at him. “Then come—but I wanna see it as you do,” and when he finishes that statement, he thrusts hard and fast, the sound of their skin slapping filling the room—Jooheon lets out a sound that is close to a scream while his hands shove into the sheets to grab them with a white-knuckled grip as he takes everything Minhyuk gives him.

The sight below him is intoxicating, and Minhyuk honestly has to push back his own release at how Jooheon moves against him—completely taken away by pleasure and chasing after what he wants. And Minhyuk leads him there, pounding into his prostate over and over again ruthlessly—he’s relentless in his pursuits to try and make Jooheon feel everything he deserves.

Jooheon’s eyes flutter shut and his back creates a perfect arc as he moans out, reaching his climax hard and covering his soft tummy with streaks of white. Watching Jooheon orgasm untouched, topped with the intense clenching around Minhyuk’s cock makes him follow suite shortly after, releasing with a moan that shakes his whole body.

Fuck. Was sex always this good?

Several moments later when he finally collects himself, Minhyuk opens his eyes that he hadn’t realized he’s closed to look down again at the younger man as he softens inside of him. Jooheon is exhausted and looks blissed out, chest rising and falling with heavy pants as he slowly comes down from his high. His face and body are covered in a thin coat of sweat, his hair sticking a bit to his forehead and the man looks beautiful. He always does, but Minhyuk is taken aback by it for a moment—taken aback about how much Jooheon means to him and how more and more his world is revolving so much around the orange-haired man. He doesn’t regret it one bit.

“Hey,” Minhyuk calls softly, watching as Jooheon looks at him, a sleepy smile forming on the pouty lips, dimples poking into cheeks.

“Yeah?” Jooheon asks.

_I love you._

Minhyuk stares for several seconds, before he shakes his head, smiling back. “Nothing,” is what he says instead, while he thinks, _Not yet_. “Let’s go take a bath, hm? We both need it, I think.” He states, slowly slipping out of Jooheon, the other’s body making a little quiver while he does, and then pulls off the used condom.

A yawn sounds within the room. “‘Kay. You’re gonna have to carry me though—I don’t wanna move.”

Minhyuk laughs, tying off and tossing the condom to the floor—he’ll pick it up later—and sliding off the bed. He swoops down to pick Jooheon up bridal style, the other making a surprised sound in the back of his throat while arms are thrown around Minhyuk’s neck for stability and Minhyuk holds him close.

“You got it, babe,” he grins, pecking at the pouty lips before he walks them into the bathroom, kicking the door closed behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter was a little shorter then I intended (and sorry for any typos ^^;)—there was supposed to be another part, but I didn’t like how it turned out, so I’m rewriting it for the next chapter but I hope you guys still like it and it’s okay!!! I’m pretty excited for the next one—we’ll finally be getting into Minhyuk backstory so I hope you look forward to it!! 💙
> 
> I know I say this every time, but thank you to everyone who keeps up with this story and spends the time reading it 😭😭 it means so much to me and I hope everyone keeps enjoying as it continues!!! I still have no idea how long it’s going to be, it’s taking a different turn than I expected but that’s how writing goes I guess ^^;;
> 
> All feedback, kudos and comments are always appreciated!! I love you all, see you again soon!!


	10. His Story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Useful Definitions:
> 
> Sire: a term used to describe a Kindred who has created and embraced another
> 
> Childe: term used to refer to a Kindred in relation to their sire, the one who embraced them
> 
> Fledgling: a young, inexperienced vampire
> 
> Chapter warning: Mild (to maybe moderate?) gore and violence. This chapter is INCREDIBLY dark, so be warned!

The two weeks that pass after Jooheon’s birthday go by quickly. He would like to say that after they progressed their relationship to the next level, they were spending even more time together, but that just wasn’t the case.

They had been intimate multiple times since (it isn’t an uncommon occurrence for him to wake up sore and lightly bruised in the evening, but Jooheon would be lying if he said he minded), which he’s pleased about as he had been craving that closeness for ages. But when it comes down to it all he wants to do at this point is be with Minhyuk as much as he can—he’s clingy, sue him—but unfortunately Minhyuk has had to work nearly every night since his birthday and it’s leaving Jooheon to feel a bit lonely.

One thing that still bothers Jooheon a bit is the fact that Minhyuk never speaks to him about his work with the Camarilla. Jooheon recalls Minhyuk telling him about how he is used to erase memories, but he wouldn’t be surprised if he’s used for other things, too. He knows so little about the organization that appears to run the society Minhyuk (and himself now, he supposes) is a part of and the mystery surrounding it makes him a little nervous. He doesn’t like being kept in the dark.

It’s early in the morning on the 18th of the October and Jooheon finds himself alone in their apartment once again. When he checks the time on his phone, he sees that it’s a little past 3 in the morning, and Minhyuk still hasn’t come home. This isn’t completely atypical as the other is often gone into the wee hours of the morning, but always returning before sunrise and there are still a few hours to spare before that time comes.

Jooheon has been busying himself that night watching movies. Vampire movies, to be exact. He’s been going on a marathon of them the past several nights, watching any one he can find. He’s unsure why—maybe it’s too see if any of the films hide any truth to what he’s found out about the things he only thought were in the imagination of horror (and often romance) authors.

He starts off with a classic for himself, personally—_Twilight_. He remembers, though he never admitted it to anyone, really enjoying the movies when he had first seen them, but knowing what he knows now—they’re trash. Completely unrealistic. Sparkling vampires? It’s so dumb he can barely take it (he pointedly ignores the memory of himself asking Minhyuk if he sparkled—he isn’t proud of the question). And was Bella _always_ this annoying? Ugh.

After watching the first _Twilight_ movie in it’s entirety (again), he moves on to others. _John Carpenter’s Vampires_ and _Underworld_, both much darker than _Twilight_ and presented in completely different ways, but they still miss the mark. He doesn’t know what he thought he would accomplish by watching them, but he’s left disappointed.

He had just started up another movie, this time _Bram Stoker’s Dracula_ (the one from 1992, because Jooheon has always had a crush on Keanu Reeves), when the door to the apartment finally opens, revealing the lean frame of Minhyuk.

“Hey!” Jooheon greets immediately, his voice sounding excited as he pauses the movie. Minhyuk smiles at him. The smile is genuine, but by looking at the expression in his eyes, the blond looks a bit troubled, if not sad. “What’s wrong?”

Minhyuk plops down next to him on the sofa. “Just a rough day,” he says, resting his head on Jooheon’s shoulder. “Isn’t that Keanu Reeves?”

“Yep,” replies, Jooheon. However, not wanting to be distracted (and Minhyuk is _very_ talented at putting his attention elsewhere to avoid a subject), he presses on. “Why was your day rough? You can talk to me about it, you know.”

Minhyuk hums, shuffling a little bit at his side before raising his head from Jooheon’s shoulder. “It’s—well, nothing out of the ordinary happened today, honestly. It was business as usual. It’s just that—,” he sighs a little, slumping backwards into the back of the couch and sinking further into the cushions. “It’s just that I get really sick of doing it.”

Jooheon frowns a little. “Then...why don’t you just quit if you don’t like it?” He asks slowly, watching Minhyuk’s expression carefully. “You make enough money from your paintings that you don’t need the job, right?”

The blond snorts without humor. “The Prince and the Camarilla don’t pay me. And I’d quit if I could, but I can’t.”

He sighs heavily through his nose, trying to not let his frustration show. “But _why_? You’ve told me that before, but you’ve never explained _why_ you can’t quit. I don’t get it.”

“I have a 50 year contract I have to fulfill first before I can even think of leaving,” Minhyuk mumbles, eyes looking far away. “When…When I was embraced, I wasn’t supposed to be. Embracing without permission is illegal in the eyes of the Camarilla—they like to keep the Kindred population to a minimum so it’s easier to manage. Normally they kill illegally turned Kindred, and honestly after what I did, they should have. But Jinyoung spared me and that’s what I’m repaying him for.”

Jooheon’s mouth feels a little dry when he says, “Min, what happened to you? You’ve never told me.”

He watches the man as he purses his lips. “I haven’t told you for a reason. It’s—it’s a really awful story and I don’t want you to think of me different afterwards. I’ve done some terrible things, Jooheon.”

Jooheon frowns. “We all have. Can you _please_ just tell me? I want to understand.” He reaches out, taking Minhyuk’s large, cool hand in his in urgency, looking him in the eyes. “I won’t think of you differently, you should know me well enough by now to know that. What happened?”

The older man releases a shaky sigh, glancing down at their hands briefly, before looking back up.

“Okay.”

☼

** _December 16th, 2005_ **

When Minhyuk had first set eyes on the city of Los Angeles, he had been instantly taken by how beautiful the city was, as well as its people. Everything was so new, so bright and so different, he was completely swept away by it like a leaf down a river. But after some time living and breathing the city in, his rose tinted glasses finally slipped from his eyes and he saw the darkness that lingered just under the surface. The people he strived to be like were stricken by vapidity, rapid narcissism and a lack of empathy, parts of the city completely over taken by drug abuse, poverty and violence. So many of these things are hidden under a fluffy exterior of sunshine and success that once you realize that it’s there, that maybe this isn’t a city of dreams like one had hoped, it changes a person, whether you want it to or not.

He had visions of greatness he set for himself. When his father died when he was sixteen, he was left with a small sum of money that was tucked away for him until he came of age. He desperately had wanted to get away from his far from ideal home life—he had never been close to his mother and she openly paid him little mind, as if sometimes he didn’t exist at all. And once Minhyuk’s sexual preferences came to light, along with him expressing no interest in furthering his education in lieu of pursuing modeling, his mother practically pushed him out the door as soon as she could. In her own words, he “wouldn’t carry on the family lineage, anyway”. So, he bought a one way ticket at the tender age of nineteen and started fresh and anew in the United States, in Los Angeles, California, specifically.

The first couple of years he was there, the experience was great. He had snagged a two-year contract with an agency and had moderate success in modeling, making a fair bit of money with a steady stream of gigs that helped fund his ever growing lavish life style that his peers around him told him he should aim to lead. He spent his money nearly as quickly as he made it, buying expensive clothes and jewelry to try and show off how that little boy from Seoul had made it in such a big city. He was young, stupid and easily manipulated, living constantly in the moment without much of a thought to plan for the future.

And steadily as the years passed, the jobs started dwindling. His agency didn’t renew his contract and he couldn’t seem to get a new one. Suddenly, his young, somewhat androgynous look wasn’t ‘in’ anymore, or casters weren’t looking for Asian men. He was told by one that he was far too thin for the usual magazine ads he had done in the past and that he should try and bulk up if he wanted more bookings. He tried, but any major muscle mass he achieved would seem to fall off of him before he could stop it and he would end up looking as he did before—a man with lean muscle and thin arms and not at all what anyone seemed to be looking for.

When the year 2005 started, he had been in LA for six years and was already in his mid-twenties–old in the grand scheme of modeling and his somewhat successful career was a thing of the past. The few friends he had met had either outgrown him or were long gone with some other adventure that they didn’t care enough to include him in. Now he found himself stuck in a large city, no education of substance or marketable skills (besides looking pretty in front of a camera and being able to paint a little), trying to figure out what he should be doing with his life or how to make enough money to afford the ridiculously expensive rent and living expenses that LA provided. He had already moved to a smaller, much cheaper apartment and sold a fair amount of his things when he feared he would have to relent and go back to his home country—where he had no home to return to.

Thankfully, things finally turned around for him financially when he found _the_ _website_.

It had been something he had heard in the back room at a fashion show he had managed to be casted for. There was a young girl—Minhyuk hadn’t known her age and in the modeling world she could have easily been between the ages of 15 to 25–talking to her hair stylist about this ‘great new thing’ she had discovered.

“No, it’s crazy,” she had said, waving a bony hand around. “There are just these old dudes that pay you shit tons of money to just go to dinner with them. It’s _great_. Last night I spent two hours with this old CEO of some company and he paid me over a five-hundred-dollars for my time. How _cool_ is that?”

Minhyuk was instantly intrigued, and got the website name from the girl by the end of the show. Going out to dinner with some guy for hundreds of dollars? How easy was that? When he got done with work that very night, he signed up for the website, whose slogan read in a bright pink banner on its homepage, “Where Sugar Babies Find Their Daddies”.

This new avenue of making money was how Minhyuk slowly spent more and more of his time doing. He would occasionally be looked down for doing it, where people instantly assumed he was prostituting himself to try and get by, but he would shrug it off. Older men would pay him for his time, but that truly was it—they paid to have a young, pretty face to hang off their arm, listen to their complaints after a stressful day of work or to have someone to eat dinner with so they wouldn’t have to be alone. Sure, he encountered some perverted old men who didn’t want to respect his ‘hug and kissing’ only rule, but he tossed them to the curb right away, and thankfully, the men would normally accept his rejection easily (after all, there was an entire site with other young men and women who might be willing to do what Minhyuk wasn’t).

But, for the most part, it was easy money and soon he found himself making more monthly than he did modeling years prior. In fact, he was saving enough that he contemplated going back to school to major in fine art—he had enough free time to awaken his love for painting again and was even doing commissions here and there. He had no intention to be a ‘sugar baby’ forever, but for the time being it was suiting his life just fine, which is where we currently find him.

It is Friday afternoon and Minhyuk wakes up to start his day at around 1pm. After he opens his eyes, he is immediately greeted by a throbbing headache—a byproduct of drinking heavily the night before (one of the clients he sees somewhat regularly hates drinking alone—so when he calls, Minhyuk normally spends an evening drinking large amounts of expensive Champaign and hating himself the morning afterwards).

He groans loudly, squinting at the room which is brightly lit on account he forgot to close the blinds, before sitting up in his bed. The room sways with the movement, instantly feeling dizzy as the blood rushes from his head and he groans again, pressing the heal of his palm into his forehead.

_Really should have stopped drinking after my third glass_, he thinks a bit bitterly as his head begins to throb. He’s never been good at drinking.

It takes him a while, but eventually he gets out of his bed and heads to his bathroom to swallow down two tabs of extra-strength pain reliever, to freshen up and to wash last night’s booze from his teeth. While he’s in there, he gives himself a once over in the bathroom mirror and releases a sigh as he leans in close to the glass.

Minhyuk doesn’t look like his age, appearing to be closer to twenty rather than thirty. Big eyes, high cheek bones, no wrinkles, healthy and bright skin. There are bags under his eyes but that’s nothing a little concealer can’t fix. He doesn’t consider himself beautiful, but he thinks he’s good looking enough—enough men message him on the daily, asking him for his time so he figures he’s doing alright.

A sigh passes his nose as he purses his lips, taking a large hand to run through his messy hair and it feels dry under his fingertips. A few weeks ago and had bleached his hair to the point it was nearly white—he dyes his hair frequently to keep his appearance interesting. He loves the way it looks but his poor hair and scalp do not agree. He _may_ have overdone it this time.

“Probably shouldn’t dye it for a while,” he mumbles to himself, running his fingers through his hair again before finally combing it quickly.

Eventually, he makes his way into his kitchen to have breakfast. His apartment isn’t extravagant by any means (and _still_costs a small fortune), a simple one bedroom/one bathroom apartment with a small open area that comprises of the kitchen and living room. It’s small. So small in fact that he has to rent a storage unit to keep a large amount of his belongings in as they just wouldn’t fit within it. He’s hoping he’ll be able to move into a bigger place once his lease is up in February, hopefully one with an extra room that he could turn into an art studio, but for now it does the job.

He paroles his fridge and cupboard in a quest to find something to eat and settles for a bowl of cheerios with milk (which is the level of cooking he’s used to doing) and settles himself at his small dining table. His Apple iBook is perched on there as well and he slowly peruses his email while he lazily shovels Cheerios into his mouth.

His email consists of nothing special—a chain letter, an advertisement for penis enlargement (which he definitely does not need, thank you) and a rejection for a casting he had gone to for an ad campaign.

_“Thank you for coming, but we will be going in a different direction. Your look is not what we are going for. Best of luck.”_

His eyes linger over the email for several seconds before he deletes it with a huff. _Figures_, he thinks. He was still trying to make some money modeling if he could, but it seems at this point it may be completely fruitless.

Once he’s finished his Cheerios, he places the bowl in the sink and makes his way back into his bedroom. He flops onto the bed to lay on his stomach near the foot, grabbing his controller and turning on his PS2 to boot up _Resident Evil 4_–he needed to try and get out some of his aggression and what better way was there than killing zombies?

He plays for several hours, only moving to switch positions, occasionally sitting up and then laying back down again. He only stops when he hears his Sidekick vibrate loudly against his bedside table, causing him to pause his game.

He rolls over on his bed to grab his phone, swiveling the screen open to read the text he received—when he sees who it is, he grins.

**[Gabriele 5:28]** Are you free tonight?

He hops up to sit on his haunches and quickly texts back, making sure to use full sentences and proper punctuation—Gabriele preferred that.

**[Minhyuk 5:29]** Totally! Just say when and where ;)

He sends the message off and waits excitedly for a reply. Gabriele was one of the men he had met on his sugar baby website about four months before and he was by far his favorite. Gabriele was young by the site’s standards at only 42, was very good looking and _very_ rich as he made his money as an art dealer and curator. He always treated Minhyuk with respect and with their mutual love of art, they always had something interesting to talk about. And, well, he paid Minhyuk incredibly generously—between cash and gifts, he’s probably made close to five-thousand-dollars from Gabriele alone.

Minhyuk had intended on spending the night killing zombies, but being lavished with attention and gifts sounded much, _much_ better.

**[Gabriele 5:36]** I’ll pick you up at 9. Wear something nice.

**[Minhyuk 5:36]** You got it!

Minhyuk spends an embarrassing amount of time getting ready. He soaks in his bath that is scented lightly with oils, does a face mask as well as a mask for his hair to bring some moisture back into the strands. He does his makeup simple, just enough to accentuate his eyes and hide the bags that still sit under them and picks his best outfit. He chooses a blood red, silk shirt (it was Gabriele’s favorite color), black designer trousers and a Gucci belt. He tops everything off with his favorite necklace—a rose pendant set in platinum hanging off a delicate chain.

When 9 o’clock comes around, Minhyuk is picked up by a shiny black Bentley he has learned to recognize on sight and practically jumps into the passenger seat as soon as he opens the door.

“Hey!” He greets with a wide grin at the Bentley’s driver.

Gabriele smiles back at him, showing off his bright white teeth. The older man is handsome, almost dangerously so—the kind of handsome that’s a throw back to the old Hollywood movies from the 50s. His jaw is square, nose high, his eyes sharp with tiny wrinkles at the outer corners that simply look charming instead of a sign of his age. His hair is black, with a few wisps of grey at the sides. He’s dressed in an expensive, tailored suit which is his usual attire and looks every bit as rich as he truly is.

“Glad to see you,” Gabriele greets back, voice smooth, while he watches Minhyuk buckle his seatbelt. “Hope I didn’t interrupt your plans tonight.”

Minhyuk laughs. “The only plans you would have interrupted would have been me playing through Resident Evil 4 for the tenth time. This is a much better way to spend an evening, trust me.”

The man chuckles at him, shaking his head. “I’m going to guess that’s a video game? Well, I’m happy you were able to spare some time for me—you look gorgeous, as always.”

Minhyuk beams—he’d be lying to say he didn’t love compliments, especially those from Gabriele. “Thank you. So, where are we heading tonight?”

Gabriele hums, a hand sliding to rest just above Minhyuk’s knee. “How about our usual place? You can get those martinis you love.”

“Sounds perfect!” He grins, resting his own hand atop of the others, the other man’s skin cool to the touch. He watches as Gabriele smiles at his excitement before shifting the car into gear and making his way to downtown LA.

The evening goes the same as all of Minhyuk’s dates with Gabriele go. They head to the expensive cocktail lounge that they come to frequently, the older man nursing a single cup of red wine while Minhyuk orders several black-cherry martinis. They talk about many things, but mostly it’s Gabriele talking and Minhyuk listening, which is fine—the dark haired man is always worth listening to. They cozy up in a secluded booth, both of them sitting on one side where Gabriele enjoys keeping his cool hand on his knee while they talk, which Minhyuk is okay with.

Hours pass, and Minhyuk finds himself much tipsier than he meant to be. Having only eaten his single bowl of cereal that afternoon, there isn’t nearly enough food in his belly to soak up the amount of alcohol he’s drinking, but that’s okay. He’s safe with Gabriele and he knows he’ll get home safe, so he doesn’t pay much mind when he finishes off his fourth glass.

“I don’t know,” Gabriele sighs, tracing the rim of his wine glass which is sitting on the table half full. “I think I’m getting sick of it.”

“Sick of what?” Asks Minhyuk, feeling almost scandalized. “Of _art_? How can _you_, of all people, get sick of art? It’s your life!”

A chuckle escapes the man’s lips. “Well, I love art, I always will. But, I see it day in and day out—all the pieces seem to blend together and nothing really…piques my interest anymore. You can only see so many impressionist paintings come through or abstract sculptures that just end up being the same old thing. I want to see something _new_, something fresh—whether it’s for my own private collection or someone else’s. I want to feel intrigued by seeing it, as if I can’t look away—like how I feel when I look at you,” he ends with a smile.

Minhyuk giggles, turning to bat playfully at his shoulder. He almost misses, but manages to make it look intentional. “Shush. You’re a charmer, but I know there are thousands of pieces of art out there much more beautiful than me.”

“I doubt that,” says Gabriele smoothly, lip corners turning up as he reaches out to stroke his hand across Minhyuk’s cheek. The sensation makes Minhyuk hold back a shiver. “You’re one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever seen—a piece of art in your own right.” The man is speaking softly, fingertips stroking over his skin. The man’s eyes are intense, and the eye contact makes Minhyuk unable to look away, his lips parting as he sits still at the tension in the air. They sit there, staring at one another for several seconds before Gabriele’s voice turns serious, his hand slipping away to fall back to the table. “It’s such a shame you’ll age.”

This odd comment breaks Minhyuk out of his spell and he let’s a little laugh to try and cut the tension. He reaches out to his drink, only to remember that his glass is empty and settles to fiddle with the stem. “Well, that’s the same for everyone, isn’t it? We all get older, it’s just a fact of life. Can’t be young and pretty forever, can we?”

There’s a quiet hum from the other side of the booth. The handsome man leans an elbow onto the wood of the table, leaning his head as he looks over Minhyuk with his piercing gaze that makes his skin prickle with goosebumps. “You’d be surprised,” Gabriele’s voice trails off for a moment, before he continues, “Would you like to see it?”

Minhyuk bobs his head back, his vision swimming for a second before it settles down again—it was probably a good thing he didn’t order any more martinis. “See what? How not to age?”

Gabriele chuckles. “No, silly boy. How about coming home with me to see my private collection? There might be a few things you’ll like.”

“Oh,” says Minhyuk, feeling a bit embarrassed. _Duh_. He recovers quickly, replacing the embarrassment with genuine excitement. “Sure—I’d love to see it!”

The other man smiles at him, ushering him out of the booth. “Alright, let’s go, shall we?”

After their drinks are paid (by Gabriele, of course), they walk back to the black Bentley and head to Beverly Hills. The drive is relatively quiet, the majority of the sound in the car coming from the radio that is playing softly in the background. The drive is long enough that Minhyuk begins to sober up a bit and is beginning to feel a little nervous as they weave through traffic—he has never gone to a client’s house before. In fact, he had made a mental rule for himself when he started this new lifestyle to purposely _not_ go to the men’s houses he spent time with to try and prevent any awkward encounters that could ensue. But, he’s just going to see Gabriele’s art collection—no other proposition of any kind had been posed and if the older man had any other intention, Minhyuk was confident that he would have said something. He’s a gentleman, after all.

These thoughts calm him a little, deciding confidently that truly, Gabriele just wanted to show a fellow art lover the pieces he has collected over time, and there was nothing wrong with that. Minhyuk will stay for a little while, enjoy the art and head home to his dinky apartment to sleep off his black-cherry martinis.

The house they pull up to is massive. A large, Spanish style mansion with terracotta roofs, white stucco walls and a marble fountain right in front. The car is parked next to the fountain in the large, open driveway and Minhyuk follows the man, a bit timidly, as they enter the beautiful home. He feels incredible out of place.

The inside is just a pretty as the outside, opening up in a grand entranceway with high ceilings that houses two grand staircases that wind up into the second flood and Minhyuk can’t help but feel a bit overwhelmed—how much could this place have cost? It must have been an astronomical amount and _definitely _more money than Minhyuk would probably ever see in his life time.

As soon as they enter, they’re greeted by Gabriele’s assistant, Colton. Colton is a little older than Minhyuk, probably in his early thirties and is of a wiry build with a thin face. He has always been awfully quiet, Minhyuk has only really interacted with him the few times he had come to pick him up in Gabriele’s stead. He’s probably exchanged a total of 10 words with the guy the entire time he’s known him.

“Colton,” Gabriele greets and Colton nods back. He takes off his suit jacket, revealing a crisp white shirt underneath and hands the jacket to his assistant, who takes it immediately. “Will you bring that up to my room? I’m taking Minhyuk downstairs to view my art collection, we’ll be down there for a bit.”

Colton nods at Gabriel in response, before turning to Minhyuk and nodding at him as well before he turns heel and heads up the right staircase before disappearing from sight.

Gabriele turns back to Minhyuk with a smile that he makes sure to return before gesturing off to his left to a bright white hallway. “Shall we?” He asks Minhyuk for the second time that night and Minhyuk tries to hide his nerves that have started to creep up his body like a snake with an nod and soon he’s following the older man through his large house.

They wind down the hallway until they eventually reach a stairway, much less extravagant than the ones in the entrance, that lead them several feet below ground and into the basement of the house. The basement looks nothing like the ones he has been in before, it is completely finished and simply another lavish extension of the house. There are several rooms they pass, including a private movie theater and bar, before they stop in front of a large metal door that reminds Minhyuk of something that would lead to a bank vault.

When they pause in front, Gabriele stands near a keypad and grins at Minhyuk. “You should be excited—only a handful of people have seen my collection before. I hope you feel honored by the opportunity.”

Minhyuk swallows his nerves once again, smiling back. “Absolutely—I can’t believe you’re showing me something like this.” This statement is true—he’s shocked that the man trusted him enough to come into his inner sanctum and show off a collection that is probably worth more than some of the art museums locally could even dream of (well, if going by what Gabriele has told him in the past is truthful, which he has no reason to doubt him).

Gabriele gives him an approving look, before he turns his back, tapping a sequence of numbers quickly onto the keypad before there is a noise, the large metal door releasing and opening into the room. The man turns back around, making a grand gesture before the newly opened door when he finally says: “After you.”

What Minhyuk sees inside takes his breath away. The room is the size of an art gallery, walls covered in beautifully colored paintings, multiple display cases housing ancient pieces of art, podiums with ornate sculptures sat upon them in all ranges of size. There are artists’ works he recognizes immediately—a few sketches from Picasso, a massive canvas paining from Andy Warhol, works from Piet Mondrian. Minhyuk looks around in complete awe for an extensive amount of time, the art lover and painter within him wanting to suck up as much as his eyes are capable of seeing. There are even some pieces from famous artists, their distinct style evident, that he hadn’t even _known_ existed.

“This is…incredible,” Minhyuk says quietly after some time of awed silence, his eyes sweeping across a smaller display of beautiful little statues from the Bronze Age. “How did you come across all of,” he makes a vague motion, unable to find the proper word to truly describe what he’s seeing, “_thi__s_.”

Gabriele seems amused by Minhyuk’s wonder as he unbuttons a cuff of his white shirt, rolling it neatly up his arm before he does the other. “Oh, here and there,” he says vaguely. “Through estate sales, private collectors and a few museums closing down. Some I’ve gotten at auctions, some I’ve gotten through less—,” he pauses, stepping over to stand next to Minhyuk, “_ethical _means, but they’re all authentic. All real pieces from these famous artists, there are no counterfeits.”

“And they’re all yours,” Minhyuk says, blinking as he tries to process this information, before he looks over to Gabriel, who now has his hands in his pockets, the grey of his hair a little more noticeable in the lighting of his private gallery. “Wait, what do you mean by ‘less ethical’?”

Gabriele smirks. “Well, you’d be surprised by what you can find on the black market throughout the years.”

His mouth forms an ‘o’, eyebrows popping up in surprise. “…oh,” is all he manages.

“What, never done anything a little illegal, Minhyuk?” Gabriele teases, leaning forward into Minhyuk’s personal space as his smirk broadens. “Never pegged you for that innocent or one to judge—was I wrong?”

Minhyuk flushes a little at the proximity, eyes averting to the floor. “I’m not judging,” is what he says, though inside he is. The older man had seemed so genuine—not to say that getting something off the black market instantly makes someone a bad person, but it does insinuate a lack of empathy of where the pieces may have been bought—or _stolen _from.

Wanting to change the subject, Minhyuk looks around the room, fussing with the pendant on his necklace as he notices something in the center of the large room he had somehow missed. Furrowing his eyebrows, he walks over to it.

In the middle of the room sits a tall, glass display case with an ornate base carved in cherry oak and the same wood sits on top of it like a cap. It’s not massive, but not small either—it reminds Minhyuk of the cases used in museums to display suits of armor. The odd thing about it, and probably the reason he had paid it no mind until now, is that it sits empty. The glass also appears rather thick upon his further inspection, and there are initials carved into the wood that read “G.S.”, no doubt for Gabriele Sabatini. It must have been custom built.

He glances over his shoulder as he hears Gabriele’s footsteps walk over to where Minhyuk stands in front of the odd case. “What’s this for?” Minhyuk can’t help but ask.

Gabriele hums for a moment. “This?” He reiterates unnecessarily, tapping the glass lightly with a manicured fingernail. “This is for a piece I’ve been meaning to collect. I plan on making it the main attraction for my collection.”

Minhyuk’s frowns in thought, attempting to figure out what the case should hold. “Armor?” He asks after a few beats of silence.

The older man chuckles. “No, not armor.” He falls silent again, long enough that it makes Minhyuk turn to him in question. “Do you like it?”

The question confuses Minhyuk. “The display case?” He questions. When he receives a curt nod, Minhyuk tries to keep the confusion off his face, but falls short. “Uh, I mean, it’s pretty I guess. It’d probably look more impressive with something in it,” he finishes, shrugging his shoulders. Gabriele stares at him after he finishes speaking, the look intense and heavy and it makes Minhyuk’s body shiver as if a cold breeze rushed through the room. The change in the atmosphere is palpable, and Minhyuk doesn’t like it—doesn’t like the way he’s being looked at and he’s over taken by the sudden want to leave. 

“Um,” he stutters, glancing around the room. “I should—I should probably get going soon. It’s getting late.” He turns to the door to make his leave, but stops immediately as soon as he turns to it. It’s sealed shut and there’s no handle—only an identical key pad next to the door and he has no idea what the code is.

He feels a chest press against his back and he freezes, arms wrapping around his middle so tightly it physically hurts and the hair on the back of his neck stands up at the freezing cold breath that brushes against his neck. He’s trapped, absolutely trapped and suddenly, he’s petrified.

“I had been waiting for you,” Gabriele whispers into the shell of his ear, his arms wrapping tighter than should be humanly possible, “for so, _so_ long. Someone as pretty as you shouldn’t fade away. No, you should remain as you are, where you can be appreciated century after century. Wouldn’t that be beautiful?”

“I,” Minhyuk chokes out—the grip is making it hard for him to breath and his arms are trapped at his sides. He tries to jerk out of the hold he’s in, but his body doesn’t budge. “I don’t under—.”

His voice is cut short by a swift hand covering his mouth, shoving his head back into a broad shoulder and before his brain can process it, sharpness slices across his neck and he can’t breathe.

He’s let go as he gasps, falling hard to his knees as his hands grip at his neck over an open wound that he desperately tries to close. Blood fills his windpipe and he chokes, the force making him fall forward onto one of his hands as red pours forth, covering the floor beneath him even while his other hand tries to stop it from leaving him. It’s splattering from his mouth as he tries to gasp for breath.

“Why,” he tries to say, but his voice is completely garbled and sounds water logged.

“Par for the course,” he hears behind him.

Minhyuk tries to crawl, the hand that had been holding the wound closed on his neck joining his other on the floor as he tries to get to the door. The blood on his hands is slippery and making him lose any grip he can manage. His vision swimming from lightheadedness, blurring because he can’t breathe and he’s bleeding profusely as if its coming from a faucet. His arms give out from underneath him, collapsing onto his stomach, eyes wide as his mouth gapes as he tries to get air—but it’s no use. His cheek is pressed against the floor, soaked in warm crimson that is slowly cooling against his skin as he stares.

He’s dying. He’s dying and he can’t save himself.

Quiet foot steps sound loud in the room as a pair of expensive loafers come into his vision. “Such a mess,” a voice sighs as the body crouches down, arms with rolled up sleeves resting on their knees as a hand grips a serrated knife that drips onto the floor. “I forget how much of a mess this can be—and you haven’t even bled out yet. Well, it can’t be helped.”

He stares at the shoes, knowing they belong to Gabriele, knowing he’s the one whose done this to him. He had so much he wanted to do, so much he wanted to accomplish. Now he’s laying on the floor, bleeding to death and the worst part of it all? No one knows he’s here and no one will look for him.

He’ll be gone. No one will remember him.

He can feel his heart rate slow, his body feels warm and light and he feels sleepy. Blood has completely filled his lungs and he guesses he’s drowning in it. Lights dance in front of his eyes like fairies, and he has a distant thought as his mind drifts and fades away of someone once saying drowning is the most peaceful way to die.

Maybe it is.

☼

Glass.

The first thing Minhyuk sees is glass.

His mind doesn’t seem to want to work, the gears moving slowly as his eyes struggle to open and focus. It’s as if it needs to remember how to work, how to process information again.

He blinks when his eyes finally cooperate, looking ahead. The glass in front of him is clear enough that he can see his reflection. He’s sees his face staring back at him as he recognizes himself, but he doesn’t feel right—he’s weak. His whole being feels…numb. Like something is not meant to be and it’s a sensation he can tell he doesn’t like.

He moves to reach out, to try and touch the glass that’s sitting about a foot in front of him, but his arm won’t follow the command. He frowns, tugging again. A rattling sounds from above him that makes his head dart above and he sees that his long arms are chained to the small cherry oak ceiling that sits above the glass and that’s not all. There’s a needle shoved deep into his wrist that leads into a thin plastic tube that is being fed through a drilled hole in the small ceiling, slowly pumping a red liquid into his body. He doesn’t know why or how, but he can smell its contents and he knows instantly what it is—it’s human blood.

It finally dawns on him, as if someone has poured a bucket of freezing water over him. His mind rushes, going from processing too little information to too much in a short amount of time. He’s chained within the display case he had been admiring, chained to it like some display piece and he’s so weak, holding his head up feels difficult. And then he finally realizes what’s wrong, why everything about himself feels off, feels wrong.

His heart isn’t beating and he’s not breathing.

A memory flashes before his eyes, a memory of him on the floor, surrounded in a pool of red with a man’s wrist to his mouth. He remembers something wet sliding down his throat, his body feeling as if it was lit on fire, burning deep from the inside and completely consuming him as every inch of him cries out and writhes in pain. There was screaming, which came from his own mouth and all he wanted to do was rip the skin from his bones in an attempt to make all the pain stop, but all he could hear in his agony…was laughter.

He panics, attempting to pull his wrists from the thick iron cuffs that are wound around them, but it’s absolutely no use. He looks down, trying to see if he could possibly kick himself out through his glass, but matching cuffs and chains are wrapped on his ankles as well and he sees that he is completely naked.

There’s a sound that comes from his side and his head snaps in its direction. He watches as the large metal door releases, slowly pushed open and it’s followed by the nearly imperceivable sound of footsteps created by expensive loafers.

Gabriele presents himself in front of the case in all his glory, dressed in an immaculately tailored suit, a small smile on his handsome face and a wine glass in his hand.

“Good evening,” the man greets, and Minhyuk glares. “Glad to see you’ve woken up. Did you rest well?” Minhyuk remains silent, and this makes Gabriele laugh, the sound making Minhyuk’s skin crawl. “Well, I suppose it wasn’t much of a rest. How do you feel?”

Minhyuk doesn’t blink as he stares, an insurmountable amount of anger flooding his body and soul as he speaks for the first time in who knows how long. “What did you do to me?”

“What needed to be done,” says Gabriele, a little shrug on his shoulders. He looks down as he swirls the thick red liquid in his glass a few times before raising it to his lips. “When I first saw you, I knew I needed to have you—and this way I’ll have you forever. This display was made just for you, you know. You should feel honored.” He takes a short sip, eyes raising back to Minhyuk’s.

“What the _fuck_ do you even mean?” Minhyuk seethes, his glare narrowing even further. “What needed to be _done_, Gabriele?”

“I wouldn’t worry about it. The less you understand, the better, I think.” The older man smirks at him, eyes flickering around the naked body in front of him. “I made you like me. Now you’ll stay as you are indefinitely—always young and beautiful. You were just the piece I had been looking for for decades; I can’t tell you how happy I am that you’re here.”

The dark eyes flick up towards Minhyuk’s wrists and there’s a small sigh that passes his lips. “_That_ isn’t as pretty as it could be, but it can’t be helped. I have to give you enough blood to keep you functioning—not too much to make you strong enough to get out, but not too little to make you dangerous. It’s a bit of a science, really.” His head tilts to the side. “I _could_ have paralyzed you with a wooden stake to the heart, but that wouldn’t have been aesthetically pleasing either, so I had to settle.”

Rage. That is what Minhyuk feels. It consumes him, to the point that he doesn’t know what to do with it. He wants to get out of his glass cage, slowly rip the man in front of him limb to limb, into a million pieces with his bare hands until there is nothing left of him, but the fact that he can’s infuriates him even more.

“Ah, the _anger_,” Gabriele croons, coming in close to the glass that separates them as he smiles. “_This_ is why I wanted you to be awake and lucid. The anger looks beautiful on your features—absolutely breathtaking.” There’s a pause, the thin lips on his face parting slightly in what Minhyuk guesses is some form of awe. “I could look at you for hours, Minhyuk, and the amazing thing about it is I _can_, whenever I want. I can come down here, look at your rage and hatred for me and appreciate it like no one else can.”

The man raises a hand, gently stroking over the glass. “I’d be destroyed if anyone found you here—I’m not supposed to sire anyone, it’s forbidden. But, my Childe, what they don’t know won’t hurt them. You’ll be my little secret, hm?”

The sound of the Motorola ringtone sounds loudly into the room like a siren which prompts the man to dig a sleek silver phone out of his pocket and flip it open to answer the call. A moment later, the man carries on a conversation, as if he doesn’t have a person held captive in front of his very eyes and he turns heel and leaves the room, leaving Minhyuk completely alone.

He has no idea how long or how much time passes as he’s held in his glass prison. His body never aches from being chained up, but being unable to move is maddening and all his time is left to his own, steadily crumbling thoughts.

Gabriele comes down to the gallery to see him often. Sometimes speaking to him (Minhyuk never talks back), but more often than not, he perches himself in a plush red arm chair that’s positioned in front of the display Minhyuk calls home, sitting silently and just _looking_ at him. He’ll look at Minhyuk for hours, maybe days—Minhyuk isn’t sure as he has no concept of time any longer, but the man will sit, hand pillowed in his hand and just stare at Minhyuk as if he wasn’t a conscious being in there, as if he’s truly just another sculpture in his collection.

And Minhyuk has never looked upon another person with such _hatred_. The anger and rage completely consumes every one of his thoughts, the only reprieve he gets is when his mind can’t take it any longer and he falls into a dreamless sleep. But, as soon as he awakens, the anger is back as if it never left him and it truly never does. It just seethes, festers and boils within himself creating a deadly cacophony in his head that eats away at the person he once was.

Minhyuk doesn’t speak again in his entirety of his stay within the case, except for once. At one point, Gabriele must have sent Colton to come in and clean the glass that shields Minhyuk from the world. As glass cleaner is sprayed and wiped away with a bright yellow cloth, Minhyuk pleads.

“Help me,” he says, voice shaking while trying to look Colton in the eye. “_Please_, get me out of here—I know you can. You can save me—just—_please_.”

All Colton does is dutifully avoid Minhyuk’s gaze, fulfilling his task of cleaning the glass before walking away. Before he leaves the room, Colton turns back and looks at him, expression sad.

“I’m sorry,” Colton whispers, closing the large metal door behind him.

At some point, the visits start to dwindle. Maybe Gabriele grew bored of looking at the same rage-filled face or he’s busy, Minhyuk isn’t sure, but he does realize he’s left for longer and longer periods of time without seeing the dark-haired man. There’s a long stretch of time where he doesn’t even see Colton, who normally comes in a few times a week to replenish his blood supply or to clean the glass, but he never comes either and he simply continues to be alone.

Time passes, and Minhyuk at one point has his head pointed up, watching as the last few drops of blood trickle down the tube and into the needle, before running completely dry. He watches it empty, pondering what will happen next if it remains that way. Will he finally die? Be let go to rest in peace, away from his prison? He doesn’t even know if he _can_die, but the thought sounds the same to him as falling asleep after a terrible day. Long awaited and well deserved.

What happens to him is much, _much_ worse.

No one comes to refill the IV, and Minhyuk feels whatever blood that is housed within him boil and curdle. Whatever keeps him going, keeps in this state is absolutely desperate to be satiated and his muscles start cramping as they try to work towards something that they need to succeed.

Something happens to his mind. His thoughts are no longer present in their normal sense and there’s a distinct whispering in the back of head that’s coaxing him, urging him forward in a language he doesn’t understand but he can _feel_. There is enough knowledge to know an inhuman amount of strength is starting to flood through him, that he can break the chains and break through the glass to feed on what his body needs, but he waits.

He waits for what he’s been waiting for. The revenge he craves as much as blood.

When Gabriele eventually enters the room, leaving the metal door open in a way he likes to taunt Minhyuk with an escape that is out of reach, he senses something wrong and Minhyuk can taste it in the air as he watches the older man like a hawk. Gabriele stops short of the glass, a confused crinkle on his brow as their eyes meet and the man’s mouth opens in shock.

“Oh no,” is whispered at the same time Minhyuk snarls.

With speed, Minhyuk rips his hands and feet from metal and bursts through the thick glass that shatters around him. The shards cut into his skin, but the wounds heal over as quick as they are made and he releases a sound that can only be described as demonic when he pounces at the man who looks at him in fear as he’s tackled to the floor.

“Colton!” Gabriele tries to call out but Minhyuk grips his head in his hand and slams it into hard wood floor. He hits his head again and again, crushing it in his grip until it caves before he starts ripping the man apart.

Minhyuk barely sees what he’s doing, but he hears it. Hears as wet hunks of flesh are strewn about the room, the shattering of bones and the inhuman noises that spew from his own mouth as the monster within overtakes him. There’s nothing but rage and hatred he feels, which has been such a part of him for so long that the feeling to be able to act on it is feeding something inside of him like a feast he’s been _aching_ for.

When he’s done, there’s nothing left. He stands, his naked skin covered in the black liquid that what flooded from Gabriele with every tear of flesh, before it disappears, the pieces and bones igniting in flames and crumbling to ash.

It’s sort of beautiful.

“Holy fucking shit.”

Minhyuk snaps his neck to the door, the frame of Colton looking at him with a phone held up to next to his ear. His eyes are wide in complete terror.

The guy never had a chance.

“Quick, you have to—,” Colton shouts into the receiver before Minhyuk materializes in front of him and slams him into the metal door, the force creating a dent in the reflective surface. Colton gasps, the force no doubt crushing his bones and organs as Minhyuk ascends on him, grabbing his arm and whipping him to the floor, the arm giving way and pulling out of the socket.

Colton screams, but the sound is cut short as Minhyuk tears into his neck, teeth ripping a slab of skin away, the blood gushing forth as he drinks deeply, the only sound he hears is a gurgling that slowly stops, the body giving way and going limp underneath him. His senses fade out as he drinks, and he drinks the body dry.

When his own body gets what it needs, the state of mind he had come into slips away and he finally seems to realize what he’s done. He lifts his head, staring into blank, dead eyes of the man he’s just killed. The body drops from his hands, which are now covered in crimson as he stares at them—he doesn’t recognize them.

Are these _his_ hands?

Suddenly, Minhyuk is slammed into the adjacent wall. His brain isn’t quick enough to register what’s happening, his back hitting the surface and his neck and head smacking back. His eyes refocus, and he sees what has him pinned. A young Chinese man is standing in front of him, gaze dangerous as his small hands grip into the hilt of a sword, the blade sunk completely through Minhyuk’s bare chest and into the wall.

There’s no fear as he looks from the blade to it’s wielder. It’s just numbness. His mind unable to comprehend what has happened, so he stares and the young man stares back.

“Well, well, well…You’ve made quite a mess of things, fledgling,” a musical voice sounds from the hall. There are no footsteps heard as he approaches, the man looking to be the same age as Minhyuk, face young, eyes sharp and perfectly coifed, jet black hair atop his head. He stops in front of him, leaning forward, past the shoulder of the man who is pinning Minhyuk to smile at him, almond shaped eyes boring into Minhyuk’s very soul. 

“Let’s make a deal, shall we?”

☼

When Minhyuk finishes his story, he looks blankly up at the tall ceiling and Jooheon stares at him, unsure of what to say. He’s feeling so many things after hearing his tale that his head isn’t able to settle on one emotion. There’s anger, sadness and so much grief—someone like Minhyuk, or anyone else for that matter, should not have had to go through what he did. It’s absolutely cruel, but he doesn’t know what he should say after Minhyuk has _finally_ told him—told him everything.

“So, that’s why,” says Minhyuk softly after a few moments of silence, before turning his head which had been resting on the back of the couch, to look at Jooheon. “That’s why I have to work for the Camarilla even though I don’t want to. It’s also why I’m so scared of myself. _Every_ Kindred has that evilness lingering under the surface—we’re all capable of it. Do you know how fucking _terrifying_ that is?” He sits up, turning his head away to burry it into his hands as he begins to cry. “Knowing that’s what living within myself—what I am capable of and going through it first hand…it was all consuming for so long. I can still remember the sound of Colton’s screams in my head.”

Minhyuk’s shoulders begin to shake as buries his head even deeper into his hands. “Gabriele deserved to die, but Colton didn’t. He was a victim too—he was his ghoul, he probably didn’t even know what he was doing. He shouldn’t have had to suffer like he did, and I killed him! I didn’t mean to—I didn’t know what I was doing at that point, I couldn’t control it. I never wanted to be a—,” his voice cracks, the last word left unsaid, but it rings in the air as Jooheon fills in the blank himself:

_Monster_.

Jooheon has been sitting still, crossed legged on the couch the entire time, giving Minhyuk his undivided attention, but he finally moves. He gets close enough so their thighs are touching, reaching forward with slightly shaking hands as he grabs onto Minhyuk’s wrists to gently pull them away from his face. He waits until the beautiful man looks to him, eyes watering and his face looking so incredibly sad and scared. It’s a look he’s seen on Minhyuk’s face so many times and he desperately wants it to go away, to never have Minhyuk make that expression again.

“It’s not your fault,” states Jooheon firmly. Minhyuk lip quivers, opening his mouth to no doubt protest what he’s just said, but he cuts the man off. “No, it isn’t. Anyone else who hears this story would _never_ blame you, Minhyuk. Never. What happened to you was…absolutely fucking terrible and all of this isn’t your fault—not at all.”

Tears are falling steadily down Minhyuk’s cheeks and it’s so hard for Jooheon to watch. “You’re not scared of me now?” The man’s voice is so small, Jooheon barely hears it.

He holds back his own tears that have been threatening to spill over for ages now, but still manages to hold them back. He reaches out, placing his hands on either side of Minhyuk’s face as he shakes his head. “No. I’ve told you before; I’ve never been scared of you. You might think of yourself as a monster, but I’ll never see you that way. You’re—you’re absolutely incredible, Minhyuk. You’re so fucking kind, talented, funny—I could go on for hours about what is so wonderful about you. Nothing you’ve told me would ever make me change how I think about you. I love you as you are.”

The confession causes Minhyuk’s beautiful face to crumble. He lets out a massive sob that shakes his whole body before he envelops Jooheon in a hug that forces him to fall back onto the couch, the lean man on top of him as he continues to cry into his shoulder.

“I love you—I love you too,” Minhyuk repeats over and over and over again, moving up to kiss Jooheon, kissing his cheeks, his nose, his lips—before finally burying his face into his neck as he hugs him close.

“I know,” Jooheon whispers, hand slipping into Minhyuk’s hair as he looks up at the ceiling, a small smile on his face. A few tears of his own finally break free, but he let’s them since Minhyuk can’t see.

And it’s true. Jooheon has known for a while, and he’s pretty sure that Minhyuk did too. But, saying it aloud makes everything seem so much more important, so much more real to him.

Jooheon doesn’t care that Minhyuk is a vampire. Something that he knows on some level should instill fear in him, but it’s just an aspect of the blond that is a part of him, not all of who he is as a person. Minhyuk will always be just that—Minhyuk.

The man he loves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I’m so sorry this took so long for me to get posted. I rewrote so many parts of this over and over again, but eventually I just had to stop and let it be what it is, and I think I’m happy with it... Thank you to everyone for patiently waiting for this 😭😭😭 I hope it was worth the wait!!
> 
> I know it was incredibly dark, sad and angsty (hopefully it wasn’t too extreme???), but I hope you enjoyed it and to finally see why Minhyuk is so scared of himself all the time. It was really hard to write 😭 I hope the little scene at the end made up for all the sadness c:
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has left comments on this story (seriously, they’re all so lovely and I know I don’t always reply, but please know that I read them all and they make me so incredibly happy 🥺), kudos, and continues to read and follow my updates. It means the world, thank you all so much!!
> 
> I love you all dearly, stay wonderful and I will see you soon 💙💙💙


	11. Vitae

Jooheon wakes up in an incredibly good mood. He was awoken to the sensation of Minhyuk gently carding his fingers through his orange hair, followed by a kiss to his forehead and a quiet ‘I love you’ spoken against his skin. It’s still such a new concept, finally expressing how they truly feel towards each other, but every time he hears the three simple words, it causes bouts of butterflies to flutter in his stomach and he knows he’ll never get sick of hearing it (or saying it, for that matter). Waking up next to Minhyuk is always a nice experience, but he can’t help but think that everything just feels right in the world at that moment.

He begins his day, as usual, after the sun has set. Minhyuk hasn’t been called anywhere for the Camarilla that night so the blond has been busying himself with organizing the chaotic mess that happens to be his art studio, which takes up a large portion of the main floor. Although Jooheon isn’t jazzed about Minhyuk spending the start of their their first night off together in the last week or so being productive, it’s probably for the best he admits. Just the night before, Jooheon accidentally stepped on a stray tube of paint that Minhyuk had left on the floor (for some reason it was much closer to the kitchen then his easel), splattering bright green watercolor all over the expensive flooring and leaving a faint stain behind even after vigorous scrubbing on both their parts. So, _maybe_ it’s a good thing the older man is cleaning up, so he leaves the other be without much sulking on his part.

With the blond distracted by his own task, Jooheon decides to be productive as well. He isn’t quite as messy as Minhyuk can be, but he definitely has a lazy streak in him that he has to battle when it comes to keeping the apartment tidy. He’s predominately the one that uses the kitchen and he definitely let the dishes get out of hand to the point that both sides of the sink are piled high with barely enough room for water. It probably isn’t a bad idea to start there and while he’s at it, he might as well clean the kitchen top to bottom.

He goes all out—grabbing out multiple cleaning products, the mop (which he’s pretty sure Minhyuk has never touched) and a set of bright yellow gloves that reach his elbows and sets to work. To make the whole experience more enjoyable, he distracts himself by listening to music with the new little gift he bought for himself. Since his monthly bills are pretty much nonexistent at this point, he splurged and used the money from bartending to get a nice set of Beats headphones. It wasn’t something he needed, but it’s nice to be able to listen to music with good sound quality again. He still greatly misses making music, but he plans on having his next big purchase being a new computer to be able to mix and compose again—he hopes in a few months he’ll be able to make that wish come to light.

After cleaning the floor (and dancing with the mop), washing, drying and putting all the dishes he had dirtied over the past couple weeks away, he starts scrubbing the counters and stove with his music turned nearly to max volume, tinnitus be damned. The sound cancelling quality has made him create his own little world for himself, bopping along to his massive Spotify playlist and occasionally singing or rapping to the music, forgetting himself while he cleans away.

He had just been jamming out heavily to Ariana Grande’s _Problem_, rapping loudly once Iggy Azalea’s part comes up while scrubbing at the flat top of the stove with probably too much vigor.

“There’s a million you’s, baby boo, so don’t be dumb, I got ninety-nine problems but you won’t be one. Like what!” He finds it appropriate moonwalk backwards a few steps, spinning around as a finish to the bar, even going far as to strike a pose as the mood hit him—only to come face to face with his beautiful blond boyfriend. Jooheon stops, temporarily frozen as Minhyuk’s mouth is crumpled up at him in an effort to not release what is, no doubt, a fit of laughter.

A pause. “Uh,” blurts Jooheon, flushing to the roots of his hair. He’d completely forgotten that with how loud he was probably being, it be easy to acquire an unwanted audience to his (embarrassing) antics. He slips off the headphones awkwardly with his gloved hands, letting them rest around his neck—they are still turned up loud enough that the music can clearly be heard in the kitchen, Ariana’s voice singing out:

_“Head in the clouds, got no weight on my shoulders…”_

“…how long have you been standing there?” He asks.

“Oh, you know,” says Minhyuk, releasing a little cough that sounds suspiciously like a laugh. “Didn’t take you for a guy who’d be into bubblegum-pop…Having fun?” The blond asks him, biting the corner of his smiling mouth.

Jooheon sniffs, crinkling his nose. “About as fun as you have listening to trot, which is _literally_ all you listen to. Ever heard of variety?”

The older man makes an exaggerated gasp, hand raising up to rest over his heart in mock offense. “_Jooheon_,” he scolds, scandalized. “What has trot ever done to you?”

“Nothing,” mumbles Jooheon, pulling off the rubber gloves and tossing them on the counter so he can grab his phone from his back pocket to pause the music. “But you only listen to trot from the 90s—I’m just saying some variation would be cool.”

“I was a teenager in Seoul in the 90s, Honeybee. It left an impression,” teases Minhyuk, stepping up into Jooheon’s personal space to slip the head phones off his neck, settling them onto the freshly cleaned counter. “You shouldn’t listen to your music so loud—you’re going to hurt your ears.”

He scowls as large hands settle on his shoulders, Minhyuk using their slight height difference to his advantage so Jooheon has to look up at him. “_Wow_. That is _exactly_ what an almost forty-year-old would say.”

“Oh, someone’s sassy tonight,” Minhyuk comments with a chuckle, grinning before leaning forward to press his cool lips against Jooheon’s scowl and effectively turning it.

Jooheon enjoys the closeness and the soft feeling of Minhyuk’s lips against his own before he says, “Maybe,” once he parts from him. He opens his eyes that had slipped shut to look into Minhyuk’s and he feels his heart flutter. He’s been close to Minhyuk like this more times than he can count at this point, but the intense gaze Minhyuk always gives him never fails makes him flush with want before he can stop himself. Trying to ignore the heat raising to his cheeks again, he tilts his head with a challenging look. “Gonna do anything about it?”

Minhyuk hums at him, grinning wider while taking his finger to trace Jooheon’s lower lip, which he quickly darts out his tongue to lick at the pad and the elder’s eyes darken. “Sometimes I think you might be more dangerous than me,” he whispers, closing the distance to kiss him again but it’s not as deeply as Jooheon wish it was and he’s parted from a second later. “I’ll do something about it later, but for now we need to talk about something.”

Jooheon fights the pout that wants to erupt on his face before raising a questioning brow. “Talk about what?”

Minhyuk hesitates, fingers moving down to fiddle with the fabric of Jooheon’s t shirt. “Do you know what day it is today?”

He frowns. “Um…Monday?”

Minhyuk laughs through his nose. “Right, it is. But it’s also October 21st.” Jooheon continues to look at the other in confusion, not understanding the correlation, so Minhyuk fills in the blank for him with a careful look. “I gave you blood on the 22nd of last month.”

He connects the dots in his mind and once he does, he feels his heart rate pick up from the realization. “Oh,” is all he says after several seconds while his eyes dart around Minhyuk’s face. The man seems a bit nervous too and no doubt can hear Jooheon’s change in heartbeat.

“Yeah.” Minhyuk bites his lip. “Kihyun suggested that Vitae should be given a day earlier than the month before to make sure there is no lapse in dosage, so…”

Jooheon vaguely remembers the older ghoul telling him something similar, but he hadn’t thought about it much—possibly intentionally. At least Minhyuk was thinking responsibly, he supposes. “Okay,” he nods. “So, how do we—?” He trails off, gesturing vaguely in the space between them.

“I mean, there’s a few ways,” The blond states, glancing around the kitchen. “I could, like, put it in a glass or something, if that’s easier. You won’t need much—just a few drops. Or Kihyun told me he bites Changkyun’s neck sometimes, so I mean, that works too,” he trails off, looking back to Jooheon in question.

“That…seems like something Kihyun would do,” he mumbles before falling silent. If he’s honest, none of the options Minhyuk has given seem at all appealing to him, but he really doesn’t want to make a fuss. “Well, how did you—uh—give it to me before? Maybe be can do it that way?”

The blond man frowns at the memory. “You were completely out, I couldn’t really get you to drink it on your own,” he explains, shuffling from foot to foot. “So, I bit my tongue and sort of kissed you, tilting your head back so it would drip down your throat.”

Jooheon frowns as well. “But wouldn’t that hurt you?”

Minhyuk smiles small. “No, I promise it doesn’t. I don’t feel pain the same as you do and it heals over pretty fast.”

He stands in silence again for a few moments, contemplating. The last suggestion sounds at least mildly appealing—he hopes that the fact that it’s a kiss will help him try and forget the fact that he’ll be drinking blood (it being Minhyuk’s only makes the thought a _little_ better), so he settles for it with a quick nod. “Okay,” he speaks finally. “Let’s do it that way.”

“Okay,” Minhyuk repeats after him, glancing around again. “Do you wanna do this in here, or?”

“Here’s fine, I guess.” He bites his lip, feeling increasingly antsy and nervous. Kihyun has explained to him more than once on what taking Vitae feels like (and what repercussions can occur), but talking about and experiencing something are two completely different things—he knows that well. But, he knew about this inevitable situation as soon he started his relationship with Minhyuk—he’s not backing out now or ever. He’ll just have to dive head first into it.

He swallows thickly, trying to hide his bit of hesitation with a smile and jokes: “Well, at least it gives you another excuse to kiss me, right?”

Minhyuk snorts at that, raising his hands to rest gently on either side of Jooheon’s face in a calming gesture, thumbs tracing his cheekbones. “We both know I don’t need an excuse to kiss you,” he teases quietly, looking into his eyes. “Hey, did you know that I love you?”

Jooheon lets out a shaky exhale as Minhyuk leans in closer. “Yeah,” he nods, licking his lips. “I love you too.”

Minhyuk smiles at the words, before his expression turns serious moments later. He watches as the blond pulls the tip of his tongue in between his sharp teeth, biting easily into the muscle without even a flinch before he immediately leans forward, capturing Jooheon’s lips that are already parted to slide his tongue into his mouth.

On instinct, Jooheon opens his mouth further, letting the other deeper inside before as an odd tastes fills his mouth. It reminds him a bit of citrus, flavor acidic like lemon that mingles in with something distinctly metallic, much like copper or iron. The blood is thick, the consistency almost viscous and he can distinctly feel as it slides down his throat and the sensation makes him take a quick intake of breath.

As soon as the blood hits his stomach, the affects are almost instantaneous. His heart rate turns rapid, as if his body is trying to move it much quicker than it’s meant to. He feels his pulse in his ears while his pupils dilate, a rush of overwhelming energy flowing throughout him, making his fingers tingle and skin erupt in goosebumps. It feels like adrenaline, and probably is, but it’s to such an extreme degree and so sudden he doesn’t know what to do to relieve it as his body and mind seem to go into haywire.

When Minhyuk finally pulls away, it feels as if he’s been standing in that kitchen for hours, his brain trying to process what to do with all this new found power that he feels he wasn’t prepared for—he thinks he could fly if he jumped hard enough, could stop a train if he was quick enough. He stares at the face in front of him in wonder, honing in on every eyelash, how there are flecks of gold in his irises and he sees every hair on the blond’s skin as if he was looking through a microscope while his heart beats impossibly faster.

The last thing he recalls is Minhyuk mouthing something he wasn’t able to hear because his ears can only pick up on a high pitched ringing. Quickly his eyesight tunnels out and fades away, and falls into the man’s cool arms that feel like silk against his skin.

☼

Minhyuk would like to think of himself as a relatively calm individual. He tries his best to take situations that find him in stride, keeping a cool head and being to react accordingly as things come his way. It unfortunately why he’s so good at the tasks he’s given to complete for the Camarilla. However, he’s come to realize that whenever the situation seems to involve Jooheon, all common sense and rational seems to quickly fly out the window like he chucked it out there like a football.

When Jooheon collapses into his arms and his body goes limp, he completely and utterly panics.

“Oh my God,” he gasps, bearing the orange-haired man’s full weight easily, his arms held around the thick waist as he shakes him a little. “Jooheon? Jooheon are you okay?”

No response.

One second Minhyuk is standing in the kitchen, the next he has Jooheon scooped into his arms as he appears in their bedroom, arranging the younger’s body onto the mattress with his head resting against the soft pillows. He watches as Jooheon’s head slumps to the side, and he has a flashback to the night when he found him lifeless on the floor in his shitty apartment, the first night he had given him Vitae. He quickly shakes the thought from his head—he can’t think about it now.

He can clearly hear Jooheon breathing and his heart rate, but still he crawls onto the bed, crouching over to put his ear near his mouth and then moves it to press against his chest. He’s breathing steady and his pulse is still quick, but is slowing down little by little as the seconds pass. However, he’s completely at a loss as to why the younger man is unconscious.

What the hell happened here?

Completely out of his comfort zone and at a loss as to what to do, he zips downstairs to grab his phone that he had left in his studio and immediately materializes on the mattress again next to Jooheon, the body dipping a little by the sudden weight while he quickly dials Kihyun’s number from his short contact list.

The brunette is clearly not overjoyed to be asked (well, begged, actually) to come over as soon as possible after hearing a rush of words trying to explain what had happened, but the snippy voice ends Minhyuk’s frantic request with a simple “10 minutes” before the line goes dead.

Ten minutes feels like forever.

Minhyuk spends the time trying to keep himself calm (and failing) by pressing his ear to his chest to listen to the sound of Jooheon’s heartbeat and checking for any signs of the younger man waking up. As soon as he hears the sound of footsteps coming down the hall leading to his apartment, he’s instantly in front of the door, flinging it open before the ghoul is even able to properly knock.

Kihyun stands in front of him, a neat white collared shirt under a long black coat that reaches his knees, his leather medical bag in hand and his typical look of annoyance plastered on his face.

“You know, these panicked late night house calls?” He greets him with. “Not a fan.”

Ignoring the clipped tone, Minhyuk feels a instant sense of relief by seeing the grumpy brunette. “I know, I know, I’m sorry. It’s just that Jooheon—.”

“—Is probably fine, but I’ll look over him anyway,” finishes Kihyun and Minhyuk doesn’t miss the nearly imperceptible smile he makes at his frown. “And he’s where?”

“Upstairs.”

He lets the shorter man in, closing the door quickly behind him and trying to control the urge to use celerity again to get up the stairs quicker as he follows a pace behind Kihyun to reach the bedroom.

He watches anxiously as Kihyun enters, removing his coat before turning on the lamp from the bedside table and angling the light to shine over the unconscious form. He sets the leather bag on the ground, opening it before rummaging around within it and Minhyuk is unable to ignore the distinct sense of déjà vu.

“You said he collapsed after you gave him vitae?” Inquires Kihyun, pulling out a stethoscope from the confines of the bag before placing the ear pieces in his ears while he sits on the side of the bed next to Jooheon. “Was it instant or did it take a few minutes?”

He starts chewing on his bottom lip as he watches the shorter man lift up Jooheon’s black t shirt and slipping the diaphragm underneath. “It took a couple of minutes,” he says softly. Unable to stay standing in the doorway, he walks over to crawl onto the bed, sitting on his knees a little ways from the sleeping Jooheon. Kihyun appraises him briefly but doesn’t comment. “I could hear his heart start to race and it was like one moment he was staring at me with a dazed sort of look on his face and the next he was falling limp.”

Kihyun hums in response. “I see,” is all he says, hand moving underneath Jooheon’s shirt, looking to be listening to his heart and then his lungs.

Minhyuk starts worrying his hands, picking at the skin on his thumb as he looks into Jooheon’s relaxed face. “Is he going to be okay? I just don’t understand—did I do something wrong?”

Kihyun snorts, pulling the ear pieces out and removing the stethoscope. “Yes, he’s going to be fine, and no—I don’t think you did anything wrong.” The brunette’s eyes flicker to Minhyuk with an expression of amusement as he leans over Jooheon’s form to gently lift each of his eyelids, everything feeling so much like a repeat of the night almost exactly once month ago. “You know, this is a different side of you I haven’t seen before—you’re like mother freaking out over their kid getting a paper cut. It’s weird, but kind of endearing. In an annoying sort of way, that is.”

Minhyuk scowls, muting his thoughts so the other man doesn’t hear anything unfavorable, but he doesn’t appreciate being made fun of at a time like this. “Funny, but I feel like this is more serious than a paper cut. Why did he collapse?”

Kihyun releases a short sigh, leaning away from Jooheon to look at Minhyuk tiredly. “He fainted. A common side-effect of vitae consumption is tachycardia—an increased heart rate. It can cause dizziness and lightheadedness. I’m sure he also panicked, not sure of what was happening and it caused him to faint. He’s going to be fine.”

Minhyuk’s mind feels a mixture of relief and guilt in an instant. He knows Kihyun isn’t one to sugarcoat anything, and if Jooheon was truly in danger, he would tell him without hesitation. He’s happy that the younger man is going to be fine, that it was a minor side effect of the vampiric blood, but he can’t help but feel guilty that it was, yet again, because of him that he is hurting. What if Jooheon always faints every time he takes it? Is that something that he should have to go through, as minor as it may possibly be? Should Minhyuk be okay with that? Should _Jooheon_ be okay with that? What if everything just ends up getting progressively worst and Jooheon hates what he’s chosen for himself?

“Stop it.”

Minhyuk blinks, looking to Kihyun who is staring at him with a stern expression. He crinkles his nose at him, before reaching across to brush Jooheon’s hair that had fallen into his eyes. “What?” He mumbles.

“You have to respect his decision.” Minhyuk glances up at the ghoul before looking back down to Jooheon. He heard Kihyun sigh, shifting down to sift through his leather bag again before he continues, “You know I didn’t love the idea of Jooheon becoming a ghoul, but I support his choice. He fully understood what it meant and you can’t sit here guilting yourself over ‘what ifs’ that haven’t even happened yet or may not happen at all. You can’t assume what Jooheon will feel, that’s Jooheon’s right, not yours.”

Minhyuk releases a breath, leaning back onto his knees as he watches Kihyun put his stethoscope away. “I’m not trying to assume what Jooheon feels.”

“You may not be trying, but you are. Your thoughts don’t lie,” snips Kihyun, getting up from the bed to turn and look at Minhyuk, arms crossed against his small chest. “I get where you’re coming from, Min. I do. But if you freak out and panic over every little pebble in the road, this journey is going to be even harder and everyone will suffer from it.” He gestures to Jooheon, whose eyes are still closed. “_This_ is a very mild reaction to vitae—at least he didn’t become instantly manic or ravenous from it. It could be a hell of a lot worse, trust me, and the longer he takes it, the easier it will most likely be for him. This the bed you both chose, so lie in it and move on.”

Minhyuk fights away a frown as he looks past Kihyun to stare at the wall as the words sink in. He knows Kihyun is right. Kihyun knows he’s right as well, so Minhyuk doesn’t give him the satisfaction by saying it out loud. “Thanks, I think,” he settles with.

“You’re welcome, I think.”

He laughs through his nose as Kihyun smiles a little. “Sorry I panicked. I’m glad you came here…seriously. What did you do with Changkyun?”

The smile falls from Kihyun’s face and is quickly replaced with an unreadable expression. “He’s just at home. He’s been in torpor the last couple of days, so I knew he would be okay to be alone for a little while.”

Minhyuk raises his eyebrows—he wasn’t expecting that. Torpor is a deep vampiric sleep, much like hibernation or stasis where the body remains asleep. Sometimes it can happen involuntarily if one becomes weak or is unable to feed, but can also be triggered by choice. Normally, at least to Minhyuk’s knowledge, when a Kindred chooses to enter this state, it’s to avoid something by letting time pass for an extended period of time. “He’s in torpor? Why?”

The brunette scratches the side of his nose and begins to fidget. “The voices have been…worse than normal. He keeps getting plagued by visions and he doesn’t understand what they mean and I honestly can’t make much sense of them either when I look in his head. He keeps muttering something about ‘a new family member’, but I have no idea what that could mean, if it _actually_ means anything to begin with. The only break from his mind sometimes is torpor—I just hope it’s not for too long. Last time it was over six months and the time before that much longer.”

Minhyuk purses his lips. _A new family member? _He thinks to himself, just as lost as Kihyun is. “Well, I hope it isn’t too long, too—I’m sure he’ll be okay. Just probably needed a breather.” Kihyun nods at his words, lips in a thin line and they fall into a mutual silence.

There’s a shift from the bed with a tiny groan and Minhyuk’s neck snaps into Jooheon’s direction as he watches his small eyes flutter open. Minhyuk is on the younger man so quick he should probably have whiplash, pushing orange bangs up with his hands to look close into his face.

“Hey…” he greets softly. “How are you feeling?”

Jooheon blinks at him, a little dazed before licking his lips. “Sleepy. What happened?”

“You fainted, but it’s okay,” smiles Minhyuk, moving his hand to begin carding it through his soft hair and enjoying the look of bliss on the man’s face as he closes his eyes and keens into the touch much like a kitten. “Do you feel anything other than sleepy? Are you hungry? Does anything hurt?”

Jooheon shakes his head. “My body feels a little weird, but I’m fine.” Brown eyes slowly open again to look up at him. A rush of affection and relief overtakes Minhyuk and without another though, he leans forward, covering Jooheon’s pouty lips with his own.

The body below him releases a contented sigh, as if he was waiting for him to kiss him. Arms reach up to wrap around Minhyuk’s shoulders as the mouth parts willingly on instinct, welcoming the swipe of Minhyuk’s tongue as his hand slips to cradle Jooheon’s neck and the man lets out a little whine.

“_Ew_.”

Jooheon, much more awake than before, parts from Minhyuk with an alarmed pop as he looks in horror at the look of disgust on Kihyun’s face, who happens to still standing to the side of the bed with his arms crossed while he looms over them.

Jooheon proceeds to blush so hard he’s nearly purple.

“Kihyun’s here?” Jooheon croaks.

“Kihyun’s here,” Kihyun agrees, voice tight. “Came to check up on you because this ass was freaking out over you.”

Jooheon’s eyes dart over back to Minhyuk. “You…You were freaking out?”

“Er, yeah—I,” he leans back, making a bit more space between their two bodies as he tries to hide his embarrassment. “I wasn’t sure why you fainted, so I called him to check up on you. I needed to make sure you were okay.”

The younger man, whose face is still incredibly flushed, blooms into a breathtaking smile as he looks up at Minhyuk with complete, unrestrained fondness. “Thank you, Min.”

“Um, actually you should be thanking _me_, but whatever, not like I stopped what I was doing or anything to come here—.”

“_Thank_ _you_, Ki,” Minhyuk interrupts with a laugh, looking over as the brunette snippily grabs his medical bag and slings his black coat over his arm. “Seriously, I owe you one.”

“Yeah, yeah,” mutters the brunette, spinning and turning heal immediately. “I’m charging next time. I’ll let myself out.”

“Uh, thank you!” Jooheon calls awkwardly before the door is closed roughly and Minhyuk listens to the angry sound of footsteps until he hears them leave the apartment.

Once he knows they’re finally alone, Minhyuk releases a sigh, turning back to Jooheon and resting his forehead against the other’s.

“That was one of the more embarrassing moments of my life,” mumble Jooheon.

He snorts. “Kihyun will survive, trust me. He’s seen much worse.” There’s a pause before he admits softly, “You scared me.”

The other pouts at the words. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to.” His arms move to sit more securely around Minhyuk as he presses his forehead back. “But I’m okay, see? Everything is going to be fine, no need to worry.”

_I hope so_, thinks Minhyuk, but he doesn’t say it out loud. He settles on a smile and another kiss, one that doesn’t get interrupted by unwanted audiences and continues on for as long as they want. Which for them, is a very, very long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeey, it’s been a while!! Sorry for the bit of a hiatus, with things going on in the world and some problems with my health, writing ended up going on the back burner for a while but I finally managed to finish this chapter! Sorry for any typos, I just really wanted to post it—hopefully it was okay 🥺🥺 I want to try and post more frequently again because I know for me, reading is a way I can escape from things going on and I know a lot of us need it right now and if I can help bring a little entertainment to some people, I really want to do that. At least on the bright side, we got good news about Wonho!! 
> 
> How is everyone doing? Are you all staying safe and healthy? I love each and everyone of you and I’m so thankful for you guys keeping up with this and putting up with long spaces in between chapters. 
> 
> Also, I made a twitter! I need more Monbebe friends (I literally have none) so please reach out! I’ll follow back ☺️☺️☺️ My handle is @MonbebeAtticus
> 
> See you soon!! Stay well, lovelies 💙💙


	12. The Power of Vigor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helpful Definition:
> 
> Vigor: the discipline of epic strength
> 
> Chapter Warning: Smut

The affects of Vitae are…strange. That is the only way Jooheon is able to describe it. He recalls Kihyun talking about this incredible high that is common from taking it, but he never felt it (well, he did pass out almost right after he took it, but that’s besides the point). His body just feels odd. There is this constant tingling sensation that plagues him for nearly a week after, which eventually passed, but he feels—_different_. Not bad, but different. He’s sure that eventually the feeling will become his new normal, but he knows it’ll take time, and he’s willing to spend it to adjust.

What’s making it more difficult is the fact the Minhyuk is constantly worrying about him. The amount the man had apologized after Jooheon’s first ‘feeding’ made him want to rip his hair out. He loves Minhyuk, he does—literally with all of his being, but the constant guilt that Minhyuk seems to feel in regards to Jooheon really gets to him sometimes and it ends with him feeling guilty and frustrated too.

For the first time, Jooheon snapped at the blond.

He had been in the kitchen, grabbing a Coke from the fridge with the blond following after him in a constant ramble of unnecessary words. Not being able to take it anymore, he slammed the fridge shut and gripped the can of soda in his hand with excessive force. “Minhyuk, stop!”

The tone of his voice had seemed to throw Minhyuk completely off kilter and he stood there in shock, eyes wide and lips parted, his long winded apology halted dead in the air between them.

The expression on the elder’s face made Jooheon stop to take a deep breath before he continued. “Sorry, just—_stop_apologizing,” he said. “The more you apologize, the more it feels like you regret—,” he motioned between the two of them, “_this_. Us. And it’s killing me, Min.”

Minhyuk had frowned at him in worry. “I—that’s not what I’m trying to say at all.”

“Then what is it?” He asked, looking him in the eyes. “How else am I suppose to take it? I get one apology, maybe two—even though I don’t think it’s necessary—but it’s like every time you see me since ‘it’ happened you just _have_ to apologize. Why?”

Minhyuk glanced down to the tiled floor, chewing on his bottom lip. “It’s just…it’s just that if I was normal, you wouldn’t have to go through this. We could have a normal relationship, a human one. I fucking hate that I have to put you through this and I just—I just think you deserve to be apologized to.”

A wave of anger had flashed through Jooheon’s body like a lightening strike and the can of soda that had been gripped in his hand explodes from the excessive pressure—splashing sugary water all over the floor, his pants and his arm as it’s crushed into a pulp in his fingers.

“Just fucking _quit it_!” He shouted. “Fucking stop! I love you, you idiot—don’t you fucking _get_ that? I made a choice—I knew what it fucking meant and I’m fine with it—so you should be too and quit acting like I’m a kid! You’re not human, you’re not going to be human and that’s _fine_ with me. It’s who you are and I want to fucking be with you regardless of any of that—can’t you just accept it already!?”

“Shh, Jooheon, it’s okay.”

He had been crying. He hadn’t realized it, but tears were falling down his cheeks, his nose had been running, but he only noticed when Minhyuk had quietly taken a step forward. Jooheon was shaking.

Minhyuk reached out, taking Jooheon smaller hand that was still aggressively holding on to what was left of the aluminum can to gently pry his fingers out of the grip. He sniffed as he looked down, seeing that the metal had been crushed to the point that it had melded into the imprint of his palm and fingers, and sharp edges had cut into his skin. He shouldn’t be able to do that…should he?

“You hurt your hand…Let’s clean this up, okay?”

The sound of Minhyuk’s gentle, raspy voice made Jooheon crumble, throwing the crushed metal to the ground and immediately falling into Minhyuk’s arms. He clung to him hard, burying his head into the older man’s shoulder and getting tears on his expensive silk shirt.

“I’m sorry just—just stop apologizing, okay?” He sniffed, burying himself deeper into the embrace when he felt Minhyuk’s cool arms wrap around him and hold him tight. His voice was nearly inaudible but Minhyuk can always hear him as if he was shouting.

Minhyuk slipped a hand into his hair, kissed the top of his head. “I will. I never want to hurt you, Honeybee. Never.” The hand massaged the back of his scalp as Jooheon choked on a sob. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

That night had ended with them snuggling up and watching a movie, and thankfully at that point, Minhyuk never apologized again for giving Jooheon Vitae.

It’s now been a few weeks since Jooheon’s blow up and they haven’t talked about it. They haven’t been able to talk much at all, unfortunately. Minhyuk has been called nearly every night to do errands or jobs for Jinyoung (something he’s come to realize he is going to always have to put up with), and on the sparse nights where he isn’t called upon, he’s been painting. The two weren’t even able to celebrate Minhyuk’s birthday, which had been on the third of November, because the blond had been out the entire night. Jooheon would be lying to say he isn’t miffed over that fact (and, honestly, among other things), regardless of the fact that Minhyuk hasn’t ever cared about his own birthday, but he keeps that thought to himself. He doesn’t see much of a point to bring it up.

He tries to stay busy during these times, but it’s hard. He picks up an extra shift at the bar here and there, but the night always seems to drag on whenever he’s away from Minhyuk. It sucks.

He might have an attachment issue…_might_.

What _has_ been nice is, even though Minhyuk has been gone the majority of the time, he has been asking Jooheon for help which has made him feel useful. It’s been little things, like running to pick up blood bags from his contact at the blood bank, or going to pick up new canvases and paints when the blond runs low. They might be little requests, but Minhyuk is always so thankful for everything that Jooheon does for him and he’d be lying if he didn’t love helping. He always liked feeling needed.

The current day is November 15th, and Jooheon finds himself out in the sun for the first time in what seems like ages. Fall in LA is cooler, but it’s still warm and the sensation of the sunshine on his skin is refreshing.

The task for the day that had brought him out in the sunlight is to clean out Minhyuk’s old storage unit. The man had said he’s been paying rent for it since he had been embraced, but never could manage to get to it and clean it out.

“It seems stupid to keep paying for it when all that’s in it is junk anyway,” Minhyuk had said to him the night before when they had a few minutes to cuddle before sleeping. “You can just throw everything away if you want—I don’t really care. Nothing in there is important if it’s been sitting for fourteen years.”

It’s a little past one in the afternoon when he makes his way to _Big Jay’s Storage Units_ in a rented van. He’s able to drive right up to Unit 4, park the van and get to work.

When he opens the metal roll-up door, it’s like walking into a Minhyuk time capsule. The small room is filled to the brim with warn out boxes, pieces of old furniture and outdated electronics. At a first glance, it looks to be of little monetary value, but it’s an interesting experience to get a glimpse into the life that Minhyuk led before he was forced into the existence he’s in now.

Jooheon tries not to snoop too much, but he’s human—he can’t help but take this opportunity to try and pick out as much knowledge about his boyfriend that he can muster.

_If he didn’t want me to look, he wouldn’t have asked me to clean it out_, he tells himself as he sifts through boxes and the amount of excitement he feels when he finds some gems hidden makes him grin.

He knew Minhyuk had been a model, he had told him as much, but he had never seen any of the pictorials the older man had done (not for lack of trying on Jooheon’s part—he may or may not have done extensive Googling with no results…multiple times), but he is absolutely chuffed when he discovers one of the boxes is filled with old magazines with certain pages tabbed, only to find that each tab leads to a picture of Minhyuk in all his glory.

He eagerly looks through each one—Minhyuk had never been famous enough to make major magazines, but there are still beautiful pictures of the man dressed in an array of different clothing styles, hair colors and scenes. It’s a bitter sweet feeling, knowing that the blond was alive and thriving during these times, but he shakes away the thought—no point stewing on something that can’t be changed. There’s no way he’s throwing this box away—Minhyuk may not want it, but Jooheon _definitely_ does.

He slowly works through each box and bag he finds, but it seems that the magazines are so far his best find. There are several bags of clothing that water had leaked into at some point, leaving them ruined and moldy—those immediately go into the dumpster outside. He also finds an old, dusty Playstation 2 with several games which he decides to keep, but the old CD player covered in cobwebs (…gross) is soon tossed.

He gets help from the storage manager to haul a warped dresser into the back of the van to be taken to the dump later along with a couple of other pieces of furniture that need to be trashed—the whole process taking longer than he initially expected. It’s already half past four when he’s sifting through the last two plastic bins that had been buried in the back. One houses more clothing that Jooheon decides to pitch because they all smell like moldy water and the last appears to be filled with little odds and ends that he takes his time looking through.

He finds an old photo album that managed to survive unmanaged that show pictures of Minhyuk from elementary to high school (he was _adorable_) which he sets aside, but an old planner where he kept track of appointments with his old clients gets thrown immediately. The last thing he finds at the bottom is a medium sized velvet bag in dark purple. The item sticks out like a sore thumb among everything else that had been inside and Jooheon raises his eyebrows as he sits down on the concrete floor crossed-legged to open it.

The contents make him blush.

He finds a two sets of hand cuffs with keys attached, a blind fold, a couple of glass butt plugs and rings made of silicone—he had to do a Google search to figure out what they were, only to find out they’re—

“Cock rings!?” He shrieks out loud before he cans stop himself, shoving them back into the bag in a hurry and looking around as if someone could see.

His cheeks burn as a rush of thoughts flood his head, his face heating up hotter than a burner on a stove. Minhyuk never said he had…_toys_. Well, in his defense, Minhyuk probably forgot they existed, what with them being buried in the bottom of a bin in a storage unit, but _still_. Is this stuff what Minhyuk was—_is_ into?

He glances around again before peaking back into the bag, eyeing the handcuffs in particular with some interest. Those could be…interesting. His mind starts to fall into thoughts too dirty for a public place and he quickly closes the bag before he pops a boner in the middle of an old storage unit.

Minhyuk and him are going to have to have words later…

Slapping his cheeks to snap himself back into reality, he carefully puts the velvet bag into the box with the magazines before he finishes getting rid of the last bits of junk left over before rolling down the metal door for good. A successful day—in more ways than one.

It takes Jooheon a while to get home. He’s driving in the middle of rush hour traffic and the trip to the dump takes much longer than he expected. By the time he drops off the old furniture, returns the rental van and takes a cab back to the apartment, it’s nearly nine at night.

He’s jittery by the time he finally gets inside the apartment, box with his newly found ‘treasures’ in hand and he _really_wants to see his boyfriend.

“Minhyuk?” He calls, setting the box onto of the coffee table. There’s no answer. “Min?” He tries again.

He glances around, knowing if Minhyuk is not in his studio, he’s in the bedroom, so he quickly makes his way upstairs to the loft. However, he’s disappointed to find the room empty. He pulls out his phone from his back pocket, having not checked it the last few hours, to find a text from the blond sitting in his notifications.

**[Minhyuk 8:37pm]** Hey Honeybee. Had to leave to do something for work. I’ll be back later. Love you!!

Jooheon pouts as he reads—he literally _just_ missed the older man and that fact makes him pissy. He tosses the phone angrily on the bed before he collapses onto it in a huff, pressing the heals of his palms into his eyes in frustration.

Another night spent alone. _Great_.

He lets his arms fall to the bed as he stares up at the ceiling light before releasing an annoyed grunt. No, he’s not going to spend the night alone—he refuses. He’ll go take a shower, get dressed and get slammed at the bar.

Because that’s what adults do, right? Drink their problems away.

Well, Jooheon does, anyway.

☼

“Oh my God, ’m like Bella.”

“What?” Youngjae asks Jooheon, bobbing his head back from behind the bar while Jooheon releases a hiccup.

It’s nearly 2:30am and The Last Round is completely dead, the only people in establishment being Youngjae and himself, giving Jooheon an ample amount of time to be loud and complain to the poor bartender. He’s been nice enough to listen to Jooheon’s woes for the last couple of hours, but even in his drunken state, he can tell the younger man is getting a little annoyed.

“What do you mean? Bella who?”

“Bella Swan!” Jooheon groans into the hardwood top, talking against it. The coolness of the wood feels comforting on his hot face.

“…From, like, Twilight?” Says the blue-haired man slowly and when Jooheon nods urgently, he smacks his head against the counter by accident. _Ow_. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. God, you get _so_ weird when you drink rum. I’m cutting you off—only water from now on.”

“Noooo,” Jooheon whines, sitting up to pout. “One more rum ‘n coke?” He claps his hands together. “Please?”

Youngjae stares before sighing loudly, but slowly takes his empty glass. “Fine—one more. But it’s mostly going to be Coke—and you can’t complain about it, okay?”

He grins, nodding excitedly before winking and shooting a finger gun. “Thanks—you’re—” _Hiccup_. “—the best, Jae!”

“You’re so annoying when you’re drunk,” Youngjae laughs, shaking his head. “You’ve been gabbing none-stop since you got here but I still don’t really get why you’re upset. Guy problems?”

A fresh drink is slid his way and Jooheon frowns as he takes it into his small hands. He may be drunk, but he knows better then to say something along the lines of, ‘Well, dating a vampire is complicated, so it makes me sad sometimes, you know what I mean?’. Because that _probably_ wouldn’t end well for him.

“You could say that,” he mumbles eventually, kicking back half the drink in one swig. His mouth is numb. “S’stupid.”

“I can’t help if you don’t tell me,” sighs Youngjae, but Jooheon remains quiet which causes him to roll his eyes. “Well, whatever—I hope it’ll work out, I guess.” The younger man glances around the bar before setting the towel that had been on his shoulder down to the counter. “Will you be okay by yourself for a little while? I need to pee and I want to go have a smoke.” Jooheon nods loosely, closing his eyes, hearing Youngjae snort as he walks away. “You better not make yourself another drink while I’m gone—I’ll get the boss to fire you if you do!”

He opens his eyes and slumps onto the counter, resting his chin on top of it. “I won’t,” he mumbles, but Youngjae probably didn’t hear him.

_I knew drinking wasn’t going to make me feel better_, he thinks to himself in a fog. Drinking for him never does, but he just didn’t know what to do with his frustration. Annoying one of his few friends probably wasn’t the best choice, but there was no going back now. Hopefully he’ll sober up before he needs to head home so he doesn’t have to deal with too many questions from Minhyuk.

The bell from the bar door dings, causing Jooheon to blink in confusion as he sits back up to focus on the door. To his surprise, the small form of Kihyun is walking his way. He looks more annoyed than usual.

“Ki?” Jooheon slurs, swallowing thickly to try and clear his throat. “You’re here?”

The brunette stops a pace away, his stare incredulous. “Seriously? You don’t remember?”

“Uh…no?”

Kihyun rolls his eyes before shoving his phone in Jooheon’s face with an unamused frown. “Are you always like this when you’re drunk?” He asks him as Jooheon tries to squint to see the screen, and manages to tell that it’s a text log. The letters wiggle in front of his eyes as if the screen is underwater, but he eventually focuses enough to be able to see:

**[Jooheon 12:17am]** heeeeeeeeey

**[Jooheon 12:18am]** Keith Young

**[Jooheon 12:18am]** DUCKING AUTO CORRct

**[Jooheon 12:18am]** Fucking

**[Jooheon12:19am]** meant kihyun

**[Jooheon12:19am]** Ki com drink w me

**[Jooheon 12:24am]** Ki

**[Jooheon 12:27am]** kiiiiiiiiii

**[Jooheon 12:27am]** pls im lonely

**[Jooheon 12:33am]** hahahahaha Keith young

**[Jooheon 12:35am]** drink?????

“Oh,” he replies dumbly. He _vaguely_ remembers texting the older ghoul now that he thinks about it.

“There’s about thirty more just like that,” sighs the brunette, turning off the screen and sliding the phone into the back of his grey trousers. He perches himself on the barstool next to him, running a hand through his hair. “Why aren’t you texting Minhyuk with this nonsense instead of me?”

Jooheon hiccups, swaying in his chair. “You can read my thoughts—don’t you already know?”

“Yeah, but it makes for a boring conversation. Plus, your head is a mess and it’s making the voices sound like they’re talking through a bottle of whiskey—a byproduct of drinking a whole bar.” The shorter man props his elbow onto counter, hand pillowing his cheek as he looks at Jooheon tiredly. “Why are you pissed at Minhyuk?”

He sniffs loudly, slouching back onto the counter to play with his half-full glass. It takes him a minute to answer, but eventually settles with: “S’never home,” he mumbles.

Kihyun sighs. “That’s not his fault.”

“I know that!” Jooheon snaps. He narrows his eyes at the other man, not in a glare but just so he can actually _see_ him. He really may have drank too much. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

A silence falls between them as the brunette’s dark eyes dart around Jooheon’s face. “You’re pouting,” he comments.

“Am not,” says Jooheon, lower lip jutted out. But it’s not in a pout. It’s just—comfy there.

“You’re both children,” Kihyun groans, shaking his head. “Seriously. Absolute toddlers. Neither of you listen to each other _or_ to anyone else. It’s _infuriating_—it makes my head,” he mimes an explosion with both of his hands, “want to explode. Do you have any idea how much of your problems would be solved if you just fucking _talked_ to each other and actually listened to what the other says?”

Jooheon frowns. “We do talk…” _Sort of_, he adds as an afterthought in his head.

The other raises an eyebrow. “Sort of? Hardly,” Kihyun sighs again. “I know it’s not my place, and I’m not going to keep on trying to meddle—and giving you advice that you’ll probably forget by tomorrow is pointless—but, just try and talk. Okay?” Kihyun reaches over, grabbing Jooheon’s glass that easily leaves his fingertips so that the ghoul can take a small sniff. “Rum, huh?”

“I…I get weird on rum.”

“Yeah, no shit,” snorts Kihyun, setting the glass back into Jooheon’s hands. “I’m going to take you home, okay? I don’t want to have to worry about you getting back safe since you’re not going to ask Min to come get you.”

Jooheon pouts again, feeling a small wave of emotion. “You’re nice, Ki.”

“Don’t tell anyone, I’m keeping it on the DL.”

Jooheon laughs, and when he opens his mouth to reply, Youngjae reappears behind the bar with a large smile on his face as he looks at the brunette. “Hey! What can I get you?”

Jooheon glances at the brunette and blinks slowly. “One drink?” He asks, hopeful.

The other is silent for a few seconds, a frown on his face before he sighs through his nose. “Okay. One drink.”

Jooheon grins. Kihyun really is a good person.

☼

Minhyuk isn’t having the best night. Nearly as soon as he woke up that evening, he received a text from Jinyoung calling him to his office for a job. Jooheon had still been gone as Minhyuk had asked him to clean out his old storage unit, and because of that he wasn’t able to see him before he left, which he knew would upset the other, even if he sent him a text letting him know where he was.

Things between him and Jooheon weren’t _bad_, but they had been a bit tense, and Minhyuk knows it’s his own fault.

_“Quit acting like I’m a kid!”_

Those words when they fought keep running through his head—because they hurt, but also because Jooheon’s words were right. Even though it was never his intention, Minhyuk had been like a parent apologizing to their child once they found out Santa Claus wasn’t real and Jooheon got rightfully annoyed with him.

It wasn’t as if he didn’t realize his constant apologies were becoming obnoxious, but they kept spewing out of him like word vomit. He hadn’t known exactly what to expect when Jooheon would consciously drink his blood, and regardless of Kihyun telling him that the fainting was normal, it scared him. Minhyuk’s very existence puts Jooheon in danger—he knew that already—but seeing it physically was something different for him entirely. It made everything too real.

He wishes he could express these thoughts fully to Jooheon, but it’s hard for him to express them to himself, let alone someone else (well, other than Kihyun, but it’s easy when it doesn’t need to be voiced aloud). Even before his embrace, he had trouble expressing his feelings, not wanting to be a bother to anyone, and thinking he should deal with his problems on his own—no matter how hard and painful. The problem now, of course, is that there is another being involved that can be affected by it as well.

Minhyuk is forever grateful for the fact that Jooheon is incredible patient, but he worries that his patience will eventually wear out. And if it does, could Minhyuk blame him?

Thankfully his job for Jinyoung doesn’t take the entire night and it’s only a little past midnight when he finally returns home to the apartment. However, to his surprise, Jooheon isn’t there to greet him. Confused, he sends a quick text to his boyfriend, asking him where is he and he gets a reply that the younger man is at the bar. Minhyuk pouts a little at the text—he hadn’t realized that Jooheon had to work, but he doesn’t text his disappointment and sends a response back, telling him he loves him and he’ll see him when he gets home.

It feels strange to be at the apartment without Jooheon there. In fact, Minhyuk is pretty certain that this is the first time since the other moved in that he hasn’t been there while Minhyuk was home and he feels a bit…lost. He has gotten so used to the other presence, without it being there almost feels wrong to him and he suddenly feels lonely.

Minhyuk frowns at the thought, finding it immediately selfish. Jooheon, unfortunately, has to put up with this frequently. Him having to go through it once and feeling sorry for himself is ridiculous. They’re not always going to be together 24/7 (even though he’d love nothing more), this is just a fact and it will happen again. He’s 40-years-old, for Christ’s sake. He’ll survive.

Eventually, Minhyuk does what he feels he does best—he paints. He picks a fresh, medium sized canvas and starts to work, soon becoming completely immersed in the project.

When he paints, he often doesn’t have a plan in mind. He simply picks a palette of colors that seem intriguing to him at that moment and just goes where his mind takes him. He often paints whales, because he’s always loved them. But now, Jooheon frequently ends up appearing on his canvases, almost more often then not (because he loves him too) and that’s what he paints now.

He works the water color across with his brush strokes, starting from the top of the canvas and slowly making his way down. He feels that Jooheon would look pretty with fireworks as a backdrop, so that is what he goes with, choosing cobalt and green to compliment the orange of Jooheon’s hair.

Time flies by, as it always does when he paints, and he had just started painting the brown of Jooheon’s irises when a sound coming down the hallway that leads to the apartment catches his attention.

His ears perk up, hearing two sets of stumbling footsteps approach and the distinct trill of Kihyun’s voice snapping at someone.

“Kihyun?” He asks himself quietly, immediately confused. He goes to the door a moment later, opening right when the steps are outside and opens the door. The site confuses him even more.

Kihyun is holding onto Jooheon’s bulkier frame, completely supporting it as the man smiles loopy at his side, in complete contrast to Kihyun’s annoyance. Then the smell hits him and Minhyuk nearly has to cover his nose.

“Jesus Christ—,” Minhyuk says as a greeting. “Are you both _drunk?!”_

Kihyun eyes narrow. “_I’m_ tipsy—_he’s_ drunk,” is slurred at Minhyuk as he stands there, dumb founded. “Big difference,” adds Kihyun a breath later and seeming _very_ sure of this statement.

“…Okay, sure,” says Minhyuk slowly. “Uh, what happened?”

“I think this is yours,” Kihyun snips, ignoring the question and shoving Jooheon unceremoniously into Minhyuk’s arms. He has to use his reflexes to make sure Jooheon doesn’t fall, but as soon as the younger man sees that he’s in his arms, he releases a little giggle.

“Min! I missed you!” Jooheon grins, letting Minhyuk bear his full weight as he hiccups and nuzzles into his neck.

“I missed you too—are you okay?” He grips onto the thick waist only getting another giggle in return. He glances up to Kihyun who is still standing firm, but swaying slightly and looking nothing but bemused. “Are _you_ okay? Do you need me to call you a cab?”

“It’s outside already,” replies Kihyun, a beat too slow. He gives Minhyuk a solute—which is…odd—before saying: “Adios, muchachos.” And with that, he spins on his heal and stumbles back in the direction he came from, leaving Minhyuk in a state of bewilderment as he watches him go. What the hell is happening here?

He’s knocked back into the moment when he feels a sloppy kiss on his neck. “Okay, Honeybee,” he sighs, kicking the door shut and gripping onto Jooheon. “Let’s get you some water, hm? I think you’ll need a lot of it.”

“Don’t want water,” mumbles Jooheon, licking up to Minhyuk’s ear to whisper. “Want you.”

He feels a jolt at the words, biting his lip as he shakes his head to ground himself. “You’re too drunk, baby,” he replies, even though the irresponsible part of his brain is screaming at him. “Rain check for tomorrow. We’ll get you some water and put you to bed,” he nods, dragging Jooheon to the couch and plopping the other man’s butt on the cushion. He moves to stand back up, but Jooheon has an iron grip around his neck.

“I found your velvet bag,” Jooheon mumbles after a hiccup, still holding on. “Made me think of things.”

_Velvet bag?_ Minhyuk thinks, brows furrowed as he tries to free himself but to no avail. “Honey, let go—I need to get you water.”

“Don’ wanna,” Jooheon whines, gripping impressively hard and Minhyuk is surprised as he actually has to struggle to get the arms off of him. “Miiiiin, come on!”

“Jooheon,” he sighs, finally managing to release the other’s grip with a fair amount of force. “Stop whining and _sit_ for a second! I’ll get you water, and we will go to bed and snuggle, okay? Doesn’t that sound nice?”

Jooheon pauses, his small eyes widening as much as they can as he blinks up at him. “Snuggles?” He asks, voice small. He licks over his pouty lips, leaving them shiny, and Minhyuk watches how the tongue travels a little too closely on its journey. “I like snuggles.”

Minhyuk uses all of his willpower to not kiss the man in front of him. It takes _a lot_. “Me too. So, sit here like a good boy and wait for me—then we’ll snuggle as much as you want.”

He watches as the orange-haired man sucks his bottom lip into his mouth. “‘Kay,” he nods.

“Okay,” Minhyuk nods back, relieved. He walks over to the kitchen, running a hand through his hair. _How much did he drink?_ He thinks. He knows it isn’t easy for a ghoul to get drunk—the Vitae ups a person’s metabolism a massive degree, which means his boyfriend must have been drinking heavily for _hours_ to get him in this state…and he was with Kihyun while this was happening? That means he must not have been working. He stews over that thought while he digs through the cupboard to get a clean glass before turning on the faucet and letting it run.

“I’m calling Kihyun first thing tomorrow night,” he grumbles to himself, watching the water run down the drain. There’s a story there, and he needs to know what the fuck happened. 

“Min.”

Minhyuk jumps, spinning around in surprise to find Jooheon standing inches from him. Holy shit—he must _really_ be distracted because he never even heard Jooheon walk over to him. What’s going on?

“Min,” Jooheon calls again, and Minhyuk blinks. Jooheon’s eyes are narrowed in an intense stare, his mouth is parted and he staring as if he wants to eat Minhyuk alive.

Minhyuk blinks again as he wets his dry lips. He opens his mouth to ask if Jooheon’s alright, but before he’s able to get the words out, the younger man has immediately closed the distance, gripping his small hands tightly in Minhyuk’s hair and crashing their lips together.

His eyes widen in surprise, but without thinking, he returns the kiss which quickly becomes wet, sloppy and desperate. Jooheon distinctly tastes like alcohol but the way he’s licking into Minhyuk’s mouth makes it impossible for him to tear away. Teeth clash painfully and Jooheon’s gripping Minhyuk as if he’s trying to meld into him but the feeling is so incredibly intoxicating.

Jooheon’s hands move from his hair, down his body until he’s gripping at Minhyuk’s thin thighs, taking hold and hoisting him up where he wraps his legs around the other’s hips.

The kiss only breaks when Minhyuk, still in Jooheon’s hold, has his back collided with the refrigerator with such force the appliance is kicked back hard against the wall and the distinct sound of crunching metal is heard.

He gasps, lips parting as he pulls his head back a centimeter to look at Jooheon. He isn’t hurt—Minhyuk is incredibly durable—but the shear force that was behind the movement is shocking. When the hell did Jooheon get so strong?

Jooheon is licking his lips again, seemingly unaware of what’s been done and his expression is showing nothing other than want.

_Wait. He’s…He’s using Vigor and he has no idea that he is_, Minhyuk thinks. If he had been human, his back would be broken, and Jooheon is none the wiser as he catches Minhyuk’s lips again.

Jooheon moans into his mouth, pressing him further into what’s probably a severely dented fridge as Minhyuk wraps his legs tighter, arms securely around the smaller set of shoulders. He can feel Jooheon begin to grind against his body, his erection clearly obvious and Minhyuk isn’t far behind him.

The orange-haired man separates for a breath, pressing his forehead against Minhyuk’s as he looks at him in a lusty haze. “Minhyuk…Fuck me.” The tone of Jooheon’s voice make him want to shiver as he slips a hand into his hair. “Please,” he whispers.

Minhyuk can hear the other’s heartbeat and it sounds like a humming bird. “Honeybee…you’re drunk, I—.”

“Not drunk enough to not know what I want,” murmurs the other, moving his head down to mouth at Minhyuk’s neck where he nips at it playfully. “I want you in me.”

Minhyuk bites his lip in misery. Fighting with himself over what he himself wants and what he feels he should do. It’s as if a devil and angel are sitting on his shoulders, whispering into his ear, trying to lead him one direction or another—virtue or sin.

Minhyuk is dead, but he’s still a man. A man, when it comes down to it, that’s simple. _So_ simple. A man who’s also obsessively in love and that other person, who loves him back, is dishing himself up on a silver platter.

So…what would you do?

“Oh, fuck it,” Minhyuk groans.

He moves swiftly, getting out of Jooheon’s grip so fast it leaves the man dazed and seconds later, they materialize into the bedroom and Minhyuk is aggressively pushing him into the mattress.

They shred off their clothes. _Shred_. Minhyuk’s silk shirt is ripped to pieces by Jooheon’s fingers and the younger’s tight jeans are torn off with Minhyuk’s nails. It’s a mess. There’s pieces of fabric everywhere by the time they’re both completely naked but it only excites them more.

He can smell that Jooheon has been sobering up, the alcohol evaporating from his system and every passing second, the man becomes more and more needy while Minhyuk kisses every inch of him he can reach.

“Min,” Jooheon pants, back arching as his nipple gets sucked into Minhyuk’s mouth. “Min _please_.” He ignores the plea, moving down further to kiss his stomach and dipping his tongue into the man’s navel.

When he reaches his cock, it’s flushed and dripping against his soft stomach. Minhyuk coats his fingers quickly in lube that was on the nightstand as he breathes against the erection, parting Jooheon’s legs with his other hand.

“Don’t prep me—it’ll take too long,” Jooheon whines, moving his hands to grip angrily into the sheets as he writhes against them. “I need it _now_.”

Minhyuk shakes his head. “There’s no way I’ll hurt you,” he says and Jooheon swallows. He leans closer, licking over the leaking head with a flat tongue and Jooheon keens. “_Never_.”

He fucks him open with his fingers quickly but carefully, sucking him off as he does and letting the tip hit the back of his throat over and over again. Each cry that Jooheon emits in need and pleasure makes him want to hear even more.

When he finally enters Jooheon, the man’s knees nearly pressed into his shoulders, they both moan at the overwhelming sensation. Jooheon grips into his hair tightly, eyes glossy with emotion as Minhyuk starts to move with purpose. He’s moving so deep, it’s as if he’s being engulfed.

“I love you,” Jooheon chokes out a sob. “I fucking love you so much.”

“I love you too.” Minhyuk surges forward, kissing the other with every thing he has, only to part to say: “More than anything else.”

The only sounds in the room that are heard as their night comes to a close is the smacking of the headboard against the wall, the sound of skin on skin, and Jooheon’s cries before the both come.

☼

When Minhyuk finally opens his eyes, it’s past 8pm. He lays in bed for quite some time, spending time watching Jooheon sleep as he gently pets his hair—this process becoming nearly a nightly occurrence.

They’re both still naked, covered only by blankets and the atmosphere is peaceful. He doesn’t want to break it—it’s such a serene feeling. But, like everything else, all good things must come to an end and Minhyuk knows the two of them need to talk, so break he does.

“Jooheon,” he calls softly, lifting the orange fringe to kiss his forehead before lightly rubbing the area afterwards with his thumb. “Honeybee, wake up.”

The body next to him takes a moment to register the call, but soon shuffles with a tired sounding sniff before small eyes open to look at him. He blinks a few times before he locks eyes with Minhyuk. Jooheon’s morning (well, evening) face is one of the sweetest things to see—it never fails to make him smile in complete adoration.

“Mornin’,” Jooheon mumbles, expression becoming funny as he tries to hide a yawn.

Minhyuk snorts. “Evenin’,” he says back softly. He traces over Jooheon’s eyebrow with his fingertip. “Sleep okay? How’s you head?”

Jooheon flushes. “Well, it doesn’t hurt considering how much I drank last night, so…” he trails off before his eyes flicker around the room.

“Hm,” he hums back. “I wanted to talk about that—why you got so drunk. But, maybe after we take a shower, get dressed and grab you something to eat. Does that sound okay?”

Jooheon sniffs again, looking back to Minhyuk with some embarrassment. He opens his mouth to say something, but the younger is interrupted by the loud sound of Minhyuk’s phone vibrating against the end table.

Minhyuk groans, closing his eyes in annoyance. “Hold that thought,” he sighs. He detaches from Jooheon (who pouts at the separation) and rolls over once to reach his phone. A quick glance at the screen shows that it’s Jinyoung calling him, which makes him openly grimace.

_God damn it_, he thinks bitterly, swiping his thumb across the screen and hiding his displeasure from his voice when he states, “Hello?”

“Minhyuk, come to the tower immediately,” the stern voice of Jinyoung says and before Minhyuk can even utter another syllable, the older Kindred says, “There’s been an illegal embracing. I need you here _now_.”

His mind goes blank before the line goes dead and Minhyuk is left there stagnant with the phone still pressed to his ear. He bites his lip until he tastes his own blood.

“Min?” Jooheon asks from his side. “What’s wrong?”

Minhyuk releases a shaky breath, hand falling to the side as he turns to gaze at the ceiling.

All good things must come to an end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!! How is everybody doing? Are you all staying safe? I hope so 🥺
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the new chapter—I‘m actually pretty happy with how to turned out so I hope you all enjoyed it (sorry for any typos, I got a little lazy with proofreading because I was excited ^^;)!! I’m trying to finally get things moving with more story progression and a new character is getting introduced in the next chapter c:
> 
> As always, thanks to everyone who has been following this story, leaving comments and kudos—it means so much so I thank you will all my heart and soul 💙🥺
> 
> I made a twitter, so if you have any interest, please follow me!! I follow back and love seeing what you guys post, it gives me great joy 😌😌 My handle is @MonbebeAtticus
> 
> See you soon—stay well!! 💙💙💙


	13. The Laws of the Camarilla

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Useful definitions: 
> 
> Ventrue: One of the largest kindred bloodlines, often part of the ruling class. Known to be a force to be reckoned with socially. Many Princes end up being Ventrue
> 
> The Sheriff: a position next to the prince. The Sheriff is the Prince’s bodyguard, formal executioner and enforcer of Camarilla law (I can’t remember if I mentioned this before, but Jackson is Jinyoung’s Sheriff) 
> 
> Masquerade Violation: Crimes committed against the Camarilla, often something that causes Kindred society to be noticed by Kine (also can’t remember if I mentioned this before... sorry if I had/hadn’t)
> 
> Chapter Warnings: Some blood, violence and minor (VERY minor) character death and probably a ton of typos that I promise to fix later!!

“Wait, you’re _leaving_?”

The tone in Jooheon’s voice makes Minhyuk wince. He glances around the room to try and find the clothes he had worn the night before but all he’s met with is pieces of shredded fabric around the room. _Oh…Right._

“I’d stay if I could,” replies Minhyuk softly as he gets to his wardrobe, still completely naked, and picks out a random shirt and pants. He’s feeling incredibly anxious and it’s not a good feeling.

The sound of shuffling can be heard behind him. “I thought we were gonna talk.”

He can _hear_ the pout in Jooheon’s voice. “We will, I promise.” Minhyuk puts his clothes on so quickly, he’s sure to the orange-haired man on the bed it looks as if they appeared on his body out of thin air, but if Jooheon is surprised he doesn’t voice it. He’s probably used to it by now, if Minhyuk thinks about it. “I really need to get going—this…this is important and I need to get there as soon as possible.”

When he turns around, Jooheon is sitting on the bed, cross-legged with the bedsheet pooled around his hips, small eyes looking up at Minhyuk. The younger man looks so perfect—like he always does and the fact that he has to leave _again_puts a heavy feeling in his chest. All he wants to do is crawl back into bed with the man in front of him and hide away from the world. If only he could be so lucky.

“Go where? Is it work stuff again?” Jooheon asks, Minhyuk now able to see the pout on his lips.

“Yeah,” Minhyuk confirms. He closes the space between them, gently placing his hands on either side of the other’s face and strokes his thumbs on the soft skin. “I’ll explain later, okay? I don’t have time right now, but I’ll be back as soon as I can; I promise.”

The younger man sniffs indignantly, eyes looking somewhere around Minhyuk’s ear before shifting back to his face. “Okay.” He doesn’t sound convinced and the notion hurts Minhyuk a bit, but he supposes he can’t blame him.

He smiles softly, hiding his anxiety, before leaning down to kiss him chastely on the lips. “Make sure to eat something, okay?” Jooheon nods silently, before leaning forward to steal another kiss from Minhyuk and the action makes him chuckle. “Be back soon,” repeats Minhyuk, kissing Jooheon’s forehead for good measure before he disappears from the man’s grip and into the night.

☼

Jooheon stares into the space where Minhyuk was just moments ago, the blond is gone so quick it’s almost as if he wasn’t there at all. He releases a heavy sigh, falling back onto the bed, head amongst the pillows as he glares up at the ceiling. He has a sense of déjà Vu as he recalls this was how his night started off yesterday—alone in bed.

“Well, so much for talking,” he grumbles.

He lays there for a bit, sulking, before he decides to get up and take a quick shower, even though he wishes that there would be someone else with him in the stall. Once he’s scrubbed last night’s sexual escapades from his skin, he dries himself off, dawns a pair of black boxer briefs and goes on a search for his phone.

It isn’t in the bedroom, not amongst the messy sheets or on the bedside table. He checks the floor and peeks under the bed, going as far as to get down on his hands and knees, but all he sees are pieces of shredded clothes, littering the floor like designer confetti.

He lets out an annoyed sigh, hoping he didn’t leave it at the bar. The last thing he wants to do is go out tonight—what he _wants_ to do is order a pizza, curl up on the couch with a blanket and watch a movie while he mopes.

After a few more minutes, he decides it isn’t in the bedroom, so he exits and pads downstairs to continue his search. His eyes scan around, trying to recollect where he had been in the apartment before Minhyuk had carried him upstairs. The night is patchy at best—he’s not proud of it—but as he thinks hard he does recall sitting at some point on the couch. 

Thankfully when he reaches the velvet couch, he spots his iPhone nestled in between two cushions and he’s elated that he can now sulk to his fullest content in the privacy of his own home. He takes the phone in hand, walking over to the open kitchen and lighting up the screen. He somehow still has 25% of his battery left, which is a miracle, but what surprises him even more is that he has several missed calls from Kihyun—six to be exact.

The notifications confuse him and it makes him scrunch his brows. Kihyun almost never calls him—or texts him for that matter. Jooheon is always the one to reach out to the elder ghoul and the fact that he has tried to reach out to _him_ several times is…unexpected.

He’s about to call the brunette back while he walks over to the kitchen, his thumb just about to hit the contact, when he stops dead in his tracks in front of the refrigerator.

He stares. Then he blinks. Then he stares some more.

The expensive, black, Smeg refrigerator’s door is completely caved in, a massive dent right in the center that’s a couple inches deep…it looks like something (or maybe _someone_) was shoved into it. _Hard_.

Memories of the night before begin to sprinkle in Jooheon’s mind as he finally recollects what occurred to cause the poor appliance to end up in such a state. And, why the dent, if he really looks at it, is suspiciously shaped like a certain blond he knows.

He stares. Then he blinks. Then stares some more.

His mouth pops open and his face turns red as he remembers lifting Minhyuk up into his arms, his thighs around his waist. He had _thought_ he had pressed the older man gently against the fridge’s door but there is nothing gentle about the concave metal he is staring at.

He’s embarrassed, but also confused. How did he manage to _do _that?

He pushes the thought to the side for the moment, something best to discuss with someone who has more knowledge on these matters than him, and tries to assess the damage. He sets his phone on the counter, before grabbing the long, old-fashioned handle and tugs. The door won’t budge.

He frowns, tries again, but it appears the latch is crushed close from the dented metal. He sighs through his nose, taking both his hands onto the handle before squaring up and yanking back with a bit of force—

And he tears the door completely off its hinges.

“…shit,” is all he says, staring wide eyed at the metal door that doesn’t feel as heavy as it should in his hands. Jooheon is far from an expert in these things, but he confidently thinks he’s all but obliterated the fridge.

“Shit,” he curses again, scrambling to see if he can somehow put the door back on—as if that will somehow fix the damage he has caused—when his phone starts blasting _Rap God_ by Eminem at full volume, causing him to drop the door to the floor with a surprised yelp.

_“I’m beginning to feel like a rap god, rap god. All my people from the front to the back nod, back nod—.”_

“Jesus Christ, what am I doing,” he mumbles, sliding the metal away with his foot to step forward and grab his phone from the counter. The screen shows “KIHYUN” and he swipes across it to answer. “Hey, Ki—.”

“God damn it, _FINALLY_!” Kihyun’s voice cuts him off. “Are you and Min protesting answering phone calls or something!? I’ve been trying to call you both for the last three _hours_!”

Kihyun’s tone cuts him off guard and he scrambles to reply. “I’m sorry! I just got up and Minhyuk left for something a little while ago—what’s going on?”

He can hear Kihyun sigh heavily through his nose, sounding like an attempt to calm himself. There’s the sound of wind in the background and it sounds as if the brunette is walking quickly outside, if the loud steps he hears is anything to go by. “I just—wait, Min isn’t with you either? _Fuck_! Where did he go?”

“Dude, I don’t know—I guess it’s something work related. He basically ran out the door. Are you okay? Because you don’t sound like it.”

The sound of footsteps calm to a halt. “Kyun is gone.”

“‘Kyun”? He blinks. “Wait, you mean _Changkyun_?”

“No _shit_ I mean—.”

“Okay, sorry, sorry. Stupid question to ask, I know—but what do you mean ‘he’s gone’? I thought he was in, like, a vampire coma or something.”

“Torpor,” Kihyun corrects, and the strangled noise he lets out is one of defeat. “He’s been in torpor for over a month, but I woke up tonight and he was gone. There’s no sign of him and I can’t hear his thoughts anywhere either. I was hoping that maybe Minhyuk had seen him, but I’m guessing not—,” another sigh, “—he probably would have called me if he had, anyway. Damn it.”

Jooheon bites his lip—he can feel the other ghoul’s anxiety over the phone and it’s palpable. “Do you—do you have any idea where he might be?”

As soon as the question leaves his mouth, he expects a snippy reply, but is surprised by the resignation he hears. “No clue. I tried going to the local park—he likes playing on the swings sometimes, but he wasn’t there. I also ran around the neighborhood a couple of times to see if he was loitering around over, but he’s nowhere.”

There’s a brief silence between them. “Hey, do you want me to come help you? I can get dressed in a second and help you look—maybe between the two of us we can find him.” Jooheon is already stepping over the crushed door and making his way to the loft as he speaks.

“No.” Is the immediate reply. “I mean—thanks, I appreciate the offer. I really do, but it’ll be harder to find him with another set of thoughts around, pretty sure he made it out pretty far and I’ll need to try and really concentrate to track him down. I’ll keep looking on my own.” Jooheon hears Kihyun begin a brisk stride.

“Alright…well, if you change your mind, let me know, okay? It’s not like I have anything going on or anything—Minhyuk ditched me, obviously, so I don’t have plans.”

Kihyun laughs short. “Hm—did you guys talk at all?” Jooheon flounders for a response. “I don’t need to be in your head to know that is a huge ‘nope’.”

“Shut up,” he mutters back. “Hey, thanks for coming out last night. It was really nice and I appreciate you listening to my bitching,” he laughs. “We should do it again.”

Kihyun hums as a car honks its horn far off in the distance. “Maybe, who knows. Better not call me ‘Keith Young’ the next time you drunk text me with an invite, though. I hear that guy’s a dick.” Jooheon barks out a laugh. “Talk to you later, Joo.”

“See ya.” Jooheon disconnects the call before glancing back into the kitchen and lets out a sigh. “Fuck,” he mutters, opening up Google on his phone to attempt to see if he can get a Smeg Refrigerator delivered in the middle of the night.

☼

The cab ride is an anxious one. Minhyuk keeps glancing down at his phone, checking the time every thirty seconds as he impatiently taps his foot. He contemplated whether it was a dumb idea to take a cab to get to the meeting as running there would have been much quicker, but he ultimately decided getting a Masquerade violation is the last thing he needs under his belt with an illegal embracing in their midst.

He chews on his bottom lip as he watches the buildings and cars pass by through his window, biting hard enough to draw blood, but the wound heals over almost as soon as it appears. He has no idea what to expect—he’s never been to a meeting like this before and he wonders how many other members of the Camarilla are going to be there…he also wonders if he’ll be forced to pay witness to a public execution. He knows the Camarilla doesn’t take transgressions of a lesser degree lightly, he can only guess what to expect from something of this caliber. Illegal embracings were serious shit.

He explained why keeping the Kindred population low to Jooheon once, probably a month or so prior when the orange-haired man asked him how many other vampires are out skulking the night.

“LA has a little over three-hundred,” he had told him, and Jooheon’s eyebrows shot to his hairline at the answer.

“Only three-hundred? I thought there’d be a ton more with how massive Los Angeles is.”

“Trust me, there is more than enough Kindred running around—and ghouls on top of that,” Minhyuk had grumbled, slouching back into the couch with his arms folded across his chest. “The more Kindred there are, the higher risk of being exposed to Kine, which is the last thing the Camarilla wants. Whenever there is a new embracing, a shit ton of stuff needs to be done and it’s a massive headache, from what I’ve been told. There hasn’t been a new Kindred embraced in over a decade and they want to keep it that way.”

Jooheon frowned at him in thought. “Why would it be a headache? I don’t get it.”

Minhyuk had laughed through his nose, before he gave the other man a wry smile. “Because most people are missed if they disappear.”

The conversation plays in Minhyuk’s head again as the cab gets closer to his destination. What he had explained to Jooheon is exactly what Jinyoung had told him fourteen years ago. Making someone vanish from the public record is no easy task—plus, even if they welcomed a new Kindred into their society with open arms, there is no guarantee that they would follow by the Camarilla’s rules. The Camarilla has a history of opposers to their rules and regulations and adding more fuel to _that_ fire could lead to a massive amount of other problems.

Whether Minhyuk liked to admit it or not, the entire city of LA is under the Camarilla’s perfectly manicured fingers and if the laws aren’t followed (and, well, if the Kindred is caught), the individual is dealt with. Most of the time permanently.

Minhyuk’s mental ramblings come to a halt when the cab makes to park at the sidewalk in the theatre district. He pays the driver in cash, as he normally does, before exiting the vehicle, sneaking into an alleyway unnoticed a moment later. When he slips in through the back entrance of the Globe Theatre, he can’t help the feeling of surprise at the fact that Jinyoung had ordered a meeting _there_ of all places—but, he always has been a bit dramatic, so maybe it isn’t all that surprising after all. 

When Minhyuk enters the back of the auditorium, there is a quiet hum of voices filling the room. The theatre is beautiful, created of old architecture from a time long since passed. The area is dimly lit and would be too dark for human eyes, but since the room is filled with about fifty-or-so Kindred, the lighting truly doesn’t matter.

The amount of Kindred he sees scattered about the seats makes him even more anxious. The only time he’s ever around close to this many of his own kind is during the Prince’s Camarilla Ball that takes place every Easter—and that event makes him nervous too. He can’t help but think that any vampire hunter would win the equivalent of the national lottery by stumbling upon this gathering. It would only take some gasoline and a match to obliterate about a sixth of the Kindred population of LA in one swoop.

He settles into a seat in the very back row—no use sitting up close, in his opinion. He doesn’t even know what his part is going to be in this, anyway—it can’t be much. He looks bemusedly at the unlit stage, the large red curtains pulled back to either side as he waits for the guests of honor to make their appearance. With a quick glance at his watch, he sees it’s nearly 1am—you would think they wouldn’t be fashionably late to something like this, but he wouldn’t put anything past the Prince of the Camarilla.

A second later, he feels a short gust of air tickle his face from his right side.

“Wow, what a mother fucking shindig, eh?”

Minhyuk snorts, putting an elbow to an arm rest and pillowing his chin with his palm. “Kihyun know you’re here, Changkyun?”

“Well,” the elder Kindred shuffles as he begins (Minhyuk can see in his peripheral vision that he’s wearing a blue and black zebra-print shirt and white pants—he dressed down for the occasion), “define _here. _I mean, where is here, you know, technically? Aren’t we all just existing in this mortal construct of time, anyway? If that’s the case, then he knows I am here as much as I know he is there—er,” he pauses awkwardly, waving a hand around, “well, wherever it is he may be currently, I s’pose. You know what the famous writer Lewis Carroll said about the concept of ‘today’? _‘What is today, but yesterday’s tomorrow_._’_ Super fucking smart, that guy.”

“Pretty sure that’s a quote from Spongebob, not Lewis Carroll,” sighs Minhyuk. He taps his fingers against his cheek. “That’s also a really wordy way to say ‘no’. Ki’s gonna be pissed beyond belief, you know that, right?”

He finally takes a glance over to Changkyun and he sees him shrug. “That’s your interpretation. Interpretation is just one step below assumption, in my opinion—so, you can assume what you want.”

He laughs dryly at the response, sitting up straight to look at the shorter man fully. “Did you just wake up from Torpor?”

“Mmm, yes. Had a lovely little nap—always feels so short even though the seasons change with a gust of wind before I know it. Woke up to a loud alarm clock this evening, which is why I’m here.”

Minhyuk furrows his brow. “What alarm clock?”

Changkyun shows him a little knowing smile before he taps his temple. “It’s like being awoken by the sound of a million song birds all at once.”

“Sounds…noisy.”

The older man laughs with a large grin. “You have no idea. Well, maybe song birds isn’t the right comparison—more like a thousand banshees screaming in your ear? Something like that?”

“And that sounds like complete misery,” he frowns, looking at Changkyun carefully. “Did you know that this was happening tonight?”

The grin falls off of the other’s face and his eyes narrow—Minhyuk can’t tell if it’s annoyance or in concentration. “I’ve heard whispers in the back of my mind on things before I slept—then they told me to come here as soon as I woke up, so here I am.”

“So, the Prince didn’t ask you to come.” It’s a statement, not a question.

Changkyun laughs without humor, turning to stare at the empty and dark stage. “No, Jinyoung and the whole Ventrue bloodline don’t like my kind. He’d much rather all of us just disappear—he considers Malkavian minds to be nothing more than useless muck.” The elder sighs, slouching into his seat. “I can’t say I blame them, but only to a certain point. But of course the Camarilla always come running to us when they need insight or a look into the future—funny how that happens. Only useful when needed.”

Minhyuk purses his lips, trying to hide his surprise. What Changkyun just said was…surprisingly lucid and it catches him off guard. Usually the dark haired man speaking in riddles, metaphors and quotes to the point that it can be hard to even process what he is trying to say. His words right now are shockingly—understandable. It must have taken a fair bit of effort to construct such a normal statement.

Changkyun releases a wistful sigh. “Ah, what _is_ normal, anyway?”

_Whoops, still can hear my thoughts. _“Did you know there was an illegal embracing?” Minhyuk ignores the question, assuming it was rhetorical, and presses further. “Do you know who did it?”

“Hard to say,” Changkyun shrugs. “You think I speak in riddles, but the voices are even worse. For things that are supposed to happen in the future, they are incredibly vague. And they all want to do is talk over each other so I’m lucky to get bits and pieces. They can be absolutely _relentless_. Trying to scream what they want to say until I finally connect the pieces—when it becomes too much, my brain just shits out for while. It can only take so much mayhem.”

“I guess that explains why you’ve been in torpor up until now,” Minhyuk deduces. “Are you thinking they were trying to tell you about tonight? Is that why they were bothering you?”

“Tell, warn, hint—who knows which the voices meant. But the answer to your question?” Changkyun pauses, tilting his head. “Probably. Been a loooooong while since an illegal embracing has been reported. Actually, the last one _I _can remember is—.”

“Mine,” Minhyuk finishes for him, before turning his head back to the stage.

At that moment Jinyoung finally makes his appearance, walking silently to the middle. A few stage lights turn on, illuminating him for the Kindred crowd, although it’s completely unneeded. _Dramatic_, Minhyuk grumbles internally.

“Ain’t that the truth,” quips his elder from his side before shouting out a loud ‘WOO!’ with his fist in the air. It takes a lot of will power for Minhyuk not to outright laugh at this—especially when he sees the Prince glare _directly_ at Changkyun, but he manages. The funny moment is overshadowed seconds later by the pit in his stomach again.

Jinyoung keeps his eyes narrowed for a breath longer before his face slides into a smile. “My fellow Kindred, I want to start by thanking everyone who came here so quickly and under such short notice. My deepest apologies for any inconvenience I may have caused by my calling. Normally, I would hope to see this many of our community under different circumstances, but sometimes the odds aren’t always in our favor…and I must admit that I bring you here for a matter most troubling.”

Jinyoung begins to walk about the stage, hands clasped behind his back. “It should go without saying that the laws created and upheld by the Camarilla are there for a reason. They are meant to be set as rules to instruct us all on how to keep our community healthy, hidden—and most importantly, _safe_. These are the reasons why the understanding of our laws is _so_important, if we wish to exist as we do now. An egregious crime has taken place recently, and because of that crime is the reason we are all here.

“Jackson,” Jinyoung says softly, looking off to his right, “please bring the accused.”

Minhyuk sits up a bit straighter as he watches the Prince’s Sheriff bring out two individuals from stage right. They both have their hands restrained behind their backs, kept there by a strange, bright red set of handcuffs that appear to be glowing. He’s never seen something like it before.

_Hunter tech?_ He thinks.

“Probably,” says Changkyun from his side.

He recognizes the woman on stage right away. It’s a fellow Toreador—one of his elders, specifically. Even though they belong to the same small bloodline, they have never been close, but he _does_ know her. Her name is Maria, she is curvy and beautiful, with waist length auburn hair and sharp features. She’s an arrogant woman and fairly old—she probably thought she was far to clever and wise to ever be caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to. Even now she looks at the crowd with her head held high, no trace of fear or regret on her features. When she had been alive, she had been a relatively famous singer in the 20s, with still having fans to this very day—she probably feels at home on the stage more than anyone else, which could possibly explain her lack of fear. It seems a bit fitting for her to possibly meet her demise in a theatre.

The other person that trails behind Maria, Minhyuk unsurprisingly does not recognize from what he can see—but it’s obviously her newly embraced Childe. It appears to be a tall, slim man, shoulders broad but body slight. Minhyuk has no idea if it is either a ghoul of Maria’s she decided to turn or a random individual completely outside of the community as Jackson has a black, cloth bag over the man’s head, keeping his identity hidden for whatever reason.

“That seems unnecessary,” mumbles Minhyuk under his breath. It must be disorientating to not be able to see, especially if their life is on the line.

“Are you surprised?” Changkyun queries.

“Nope.”

The two in question are forced to kneel, Maria on Jinyoung’s left, the other at Jackson’s right. Jackson also makes a point of keeping a strong grip on the fledgling’s shoulder and it’s noticeable that he’s trembling in fear in the Sheriff’s hold.

“The Kindred elder,” Jinyoung begins, bringing Minhyuk’s attention back to him, “you see before you on this stage may shock you. Indeed, Maria has been a consistent and helpful part of Camarilla society for several decades, and is someone I have always viewed as a loyal participant, one who follows the laws and understands their importance. However, it seems I was unfortunately mistaken.”

There’s a nearly inaudible scoff that comes from the woman in question as she rolls her eyes.

“You know,” sighs Jinyoung, looking down at Maria as she remains kneeling. “I would have hoped for some humility from you. I know you came to me, requesting permission to embrace this new fledgling, but I told you ‘no’. And do you recall why?”

“Yes.” Maria finally speaks, a condescending smile playing on her bright red lips. “But, I would gather you’ll tell me again, won’t you?”

The Prince purposely ignores the comment. “I declined your request because you have sired two others before. Both have, unfortunately, perished for one reason or another, but most Kindred elders here only sire _one_ Childe—occasionally two, you were one of the few who were allowed—but I saw no need for three. You said you understood, but that was clearly a lie.

“Failure to follow such an important law, even by one with such a high ranking in the Camarilla, must be punished and the punishment _must_ be fitting of the crime. You took a life without being given the permission—so, a life must be taken as well.” Jinyoung raises his sharp eyes to the audience and Minhyuk can feel the stare fall on himself briefly, before it travels across the room. “Please, let this be a lesson to all those present. Your actions will _always_ have consequences, no matter _who_ you may think you are or the position that you hold. Jackson, if you would?”

Jinyoung makes a gesture before taking a few strides over to his left, to stand behind the hooded man. Jackson gives a nod, before moving himself to Maria’s side and unsheathing his sword that is always kept at his belt. Jackson flourishes the blade, before raising it and letting settle at the back of Maria’s neck which causes a murmur to fall upon the crowd for several seconds.

“Maria,” says Jinyoung, waiting until the woman turns to look at him before he continues, “have any final words?”

Maria chuckles, the sound musical. “Does it matter? It won’t save me.” 

The smile that falls on Jinyoung’s face is not kind. “It will not. But, who knows—what you could say could possibly inspire someone else to not follow in your unfortunate footsteps. Wouldn’t that be lovely?”

The woman grins wolfishly. “Oh, _wouldn’t_ that be! What a fantastic legacy—truly one for the record books. However,” she pauses, turning to the audience who now sits in complete silence, giving her their full attention. “However,” she repeats, “I already have a legacy, a legacy that’ll continue on for decades to come. There are those, Kindred and Kine alike, who listen to my music, listen to the sound of my voice and get joy from it. My music will live on forever, I’ll never be forgotten, even if my body no long exists on this Earth. Beautiful way to continue existing, isn’t it? So, what I say to you, my peers, friends, acquaintances and just a sprinkle of enemies:

“Those in our community have been given a gift—a gift of a second chance. Eternal life, if we play our cards right. It may be a curse, but it is as much as a curse as it is a blessing. _Use_ your time. Don’t die in vein, accomplish something to be proud of. Become a legacy that those speak of in awe (or in fear, if you choose), because if you don’t, you’ll be forgotten like everyone else and truly disappear. _Make every minute count,_ live like it is your last and then if you find yourself in the position that I am in now, there won’t be anything to fear when the people above you want nothing more from you.”

She finishes her speech, looking over to wink at Jinyoung. “There—I’m done. Carry on.” And she turns back to the audience, still smiling.

The Prince’s face remains neutral as he glances to Jackson, who finally raises his sword. The man keeps his eyes on Jinyoung, and as soon as he is given a nod, he strikes with grace. The sword cutting through the flesh and muscle of Maria’s neck like it was only cutting through air, the head flying off with force. It rolls to the side of the stage, eyes still open, mouth still smiling, as the headless body collapses lifeless, bleeding thick black blood onto the stage. The room remains in silence as the body and head ignite a fraction later in flames, crumbling to ash before disappearing entirely. The only proof that Maria had ever been there at all is the scorch marks left over on the dark wood—she’s gone forever.

“May God have mercy on her soul,” murmurs Changkyun.

Minhyuk stares, wide eyed, staring first at the spot where Maria had kneeled at moments prior, before looking back to the terrified and trembling man next to Jinyoung.

“Well,” the Prince breaks the silence, clasping his hands together. “I can’t say I’m pleased at what transpired here tonight, but what needed to be done, has been done and we now must move forward.” Jinyoung turns his sharp eyes down to the man kneeling between himself and the Sheriff. “Now, for the fate of the ill-begotten progeny…what shall we do with you?”

It’s at that moment Jinyoung reaches out, slipping the bag finally from the man’s head, unveiling his face for the first time. Minhyuk, unsurprisingly, does not recognize the man on stage. His skin golden, hair jet black, stopping a bit before his shoulders and wavy. His features are soft, with large, pouty lips, a round nose and big brown eyes. The man is beautiful, Minhyuk can’t help but think, and he looks so young as his gaze darts around the audience quickly in fearful uncertainty.

The Prince doesn’t let the man speak—though he’s probably too frightened to say anything, anyway—before he raises his eyes to Jackson again.

Panic rises in Minhyuk’s chest. He glances at Changkyun who has his lips pulled into a thin line as he looks ahead. He quickly looks back to the stage. Is Jinyoung is going to _kill_ the Childe?

“Jackson, if you could—.”

“STOP!”

Every head in the auditorium turns to the back of the theatre to look at Minhyuk, who is now standing up at full attention, fists clenched at his sides as he stares hard at Jinyoung, who only raises an eyebrow in retaliation.

“Minhyuk, something to say?”

A wave of emotion washes over him before he can stop it and he makes a pained expression. “You can’t—.”

Jinyoung’s eyebrow manages to raise even further. “‘Can’t’? And what is it that ‘I _can’t_’?”

He stops, chewing on his bottom lip, trying to choose his words carefully as he locks eyes with the nameless man on the stage, before he turning back to Jinyoung. “You can’t kill him,” he breathes. “It isn’t his fault that he was illegally embraced—we don’t even know if he asked for it. Knowing Maria, she may have just seen him randomly on the street and wanted to collect him. It isn’t—,” he pauses, trying to avoid rambling, “it isn’t right to punish someone for the sins of another—that shouldn’t be what we stand for…should it?”

The room is so silent, Minhyuk can easily hear the buzzing over head from the stage lights as if they were a siren as he gazes numbly at Jinyoung. What he’s doing is probably stupid—he knows he has no leg to stand on to try and sway the Prince one way or another. What he says is final and most likely no one in this room, probably not even Changkyun, would stand behind Minhyuk’s outburst. There is very little camaraderie amongst vampires, and nearly none between those of different bloodlines—and the only other Toreador besides for Minhyuk happens to have his un-life on the line in front of him.

Jinyoung keeps his eyebrow arched the entire time as he let’s Minhyuk stew in his thoughts, unfortunately now deciding his own fate as well as the Kindred he is suddenly trying to save.

“Minhyuk, come to the stage, if you please.”

He steels his features while he moves, silently walking out of the row of seats, down the isle and eventually up the few stairs to reach the stage. He keeps his eyes locked with Jinyoung’s, hopefully the action coming off as a sign of confidence and not a sign of defiance. He only breaks the eye contact for a fleeting moment, to peer down at the kneeling man with wavy hair, who looks up at him, his own eyes wide.

“And what do you think we should do, Minhyuk?”

The sound of the Prince’s voice makes him look back immediately. He tries his best to choose his words carefully again. “He doesn’t have a Sire to teach him anything—no one to lead him down the right path. But, we come from the same bloodline, and I can teach him. He may be useful, it’s worth giving it a try to find out since he’s already turned, anyway. Wouldn’t it be a waste to not?”

The elder Kindred tilts his head. “You talk with a lot of conviction for someone who’s never spoken to the man that sits before you. What if he doesn’t want what you’re offering?”

Minhyuk’s eyes slip down to the man, who stares back. He pauses, but eventually asks: “Do you want to die today?”

The voice that answers him is deep and soft. “No.”

Minhyuk’s gaze shifts back to Jinyoung and waits, as patiently as he can, for the verdict. If his heart still worked, it’d probably be beating in his ears.

“Fine,” is the curt reply he gets, Jinyoung glancing to Jackson who moves a second later to unlock the handcuffs on the young Kindred’s wrists. “But, he’s _your_ responsibility. You’ll train him, obviously, but also you get to deal with everything else that needs to be done to get him off the public record—I will not be helping you,” his gaze turns hard. “_And_, if he’s not within the next two months, you’ll _both_ be in trouble. Understood?” Minhyuk merely nods. “Good. If you manage to do what needs to be done before the time frame I gave, you will both come to my office—and if you _don’t_, well, things won’t turn out much in either of your favors.”

Jinyoung looks to the audience of his fellow Kindred. “I thank you all for coming here tonight. Let’s hope we won’t need to meet like this again, any time soon. Good evening.” And with that, Jinyoung turns heal and leaves with silent steps, Jackson only a few paces behind him.

Minhyuk releases a mental sigh of relief as he looks down to see the other man looking at him in a mixture of awe and disbelief as he rubs his newly freed wrists.

“Thank you,” he says softly.

“Well, don’t thank me yet. We both still might be screwed.” Minhyuk sighs audibly this time, but does smile small, reaching out a hand in offering. “But we’ll try and not fuck this up for both of us. What’s your name?”

The man smiles a little and takes the proffered hand as Minhyuk raises him to his feet. “Hyungwon.”

“Well, nice to meet you—I’m Minhyuk, you probably guessed. Would be nicer to meet under different circumstances, but…”

He feels a rush of air to his side and he doesn’t need to look to know who it is.

Changkyun appears before Hyungwon, leans forward with a grin before saying: “Hi. Welcome to the family.”

And he vanishes like he was never there.

☼

Jooheon has had a rough night. He never got to spend it the way he wanted—sulking in front of the TV with a pizza while he eats his feelings. Instead he tries finding a way to get a new fridge delivered at 1:30 in the morning, which turns out to be impossible. Not saying he was surprised, but he felt that in this day in age, there should be at least _one_ 24-hour appliance store. He came up empty after nearly having a heart attack at the price of the Smeg refrigerator Minhyuk owned—who the hell needs a $3500 fridge anyway!?

He attempted to go on YouTube, to see if there was _any_ way to fix the stupid thing, but he somehow managed to destroy it even more, which was honestly just impressive. He doesn’t know if it was because he was so anxious, but everything he touched within it crumbled in his hands the moment he tried anything—it was far beyond any repair.

The best he could manage in the end was running to the 24/7 Wal-mart and buying a shitty black mini-fridge to try and salvage Minhyuk’s blood packs. He used the money he had been saving for a new computer to pick it up, but it was better than having a broken fridge full of rotten human blood.

He awkwardly sets the mini-fridge onto the marble counter next to its broken counterpart and hopes he got in the packs in time before they were ruined—he recalls his boyfriend mentioning something about there being a blood shortage and they were much harder to come by (even though Jooheon has offered up his neck _multiple_ times, only to be consistently denied, but that was an issue for another night).

After he fills the small container to the brim with blood packs (he throws away his own food—his is much easier to replenish than what Minhyuk needs) he finally does wind up on the velvet couch, mentally exhausted. Hopefully the blond doesn’t end up being too pissed with him when he gets back, granted he was partially at fault too, when he thinks about it…

At some point, he dozes off and the only reason he wakes up is because he feels cool fingers running through his hair.

He slowly rouses, greeted by Minhyuk’s small smile only inches away. “Hey,” he greets, blinking sleep from his eyes.

“Hey,” Minhyuk says back, wiping away a bit of drool that accumulated onto Jooheon’s chin before crouching down to a squat. “So, I have something to tell you.”

“Uh, me too,” mutters Jooheon, sitting up. “I kinda broke the—,” he stops, then blinks in confusion as he finally realizes that there is someone other than himself and Minhyuk in their living room.

“Uh, yeah, so—,” Minhyuk stands up awkwardly, motioning to a tall, black haired man who stands awkwardly in the corner, but as soon as this new guest and Jooheon’s eyes meet, they both widen in surprise. “Some shit went down tonight. Um, this is—.”

“Hyungwon?” Jooheon asks in shock. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Wait, you two know each other?” Minhyuk turns his head between them in complete confusion. “How?”

“We went to the same high school…how do _you_ two know each other? What the fuck is happening?”

…Jooheon _really_ wouldn’t mind having a normal night for once in his stupid life, but he doubts he’ll ever be that lucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🥺🥺🥺 Hiiiii....it’s been a while x: I’m SO sorry it’s been so long since I posted an update to this. I promise I haven’t forgotten or abandoned this story!! I just had a loooong stretch of writer’s block when it came to writing this chapter that kept me from posting it.
> 
> I can’t say that I love the way it turned out, but I can only rewrite something so much before it makes my head want to explode ^^;; Writing such a big, dramatic scene On how Hyungwon is introduced is not really my forte and I know there are probably a lot of ways to have done it better, but I did my best. Hopefully it was worth the wait.
> 
> Thank you to each and every one of you for your patience in updates, for keeping up with this fic and for all the comments and Kudos. They mean more than you could ever know, so thank you so much!! 😭😭😭 
> 
> I should be able to get another update sometime in October—I have the next chapter partially written so I promise it won’t take almost 5 months for the next one!! I’m going to try and post updates of progress on my Twitter, so if you’re interested, you can follow me! My handle is @MonbebeAtticus let’s be mutuals 💙🥺💙
> 
> Hope everyone is staying safe and healthy!! Love you all~~~ 💙💙💙💙


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